this may seem, i realize, a bit trivial, a bit teenish, a bit ludicrous, but i don't think i will be able, if not ever, than at least any time soon and also soonish, to have a relationship that's more than friendship, to have a love affair, to be with someone.

i just don't see it. i just can't, try as i might, imagine it. and sure, it has a lot to do with my lacking self-esteem, i don't deny it. but, with friends as fine as mine, who keep showing me that i'm not worth nothing, that i am in fact am worth something, that isn't all.

i just don't seem to quite bring myself to accept that kind of familiarity, intimacy, and perceived limitlessness for myself. there are a huge number of things which i don't want to share or don't want to give up. i feel like any kind of committed relationship will, if not immediately then at least eventually, lead to my having to give up certain kinds of freedom.

oh sure, i know what you're saying now: but, you know, you're gaining a lot of couply things in exchange for that part of freedom you're giving up. and you're not giving up all of your freedoms. and being a twosome has its advantages and its perks, too.

to which i reply, at least in my mind: i know that, i am aware. i have couply friends, and they are great. the best. i would like to have what they have. i really do. but, and here's the dealbreaker: i am not they.

i am not they.

i am not couply. i am not cuddly. i. am. not. they.

i don't know what i am missing.
i am not they.
i don't know why i should try.
i am not they.
i don't think coupling up will help with anything.
i am not they.
i won't accept anyone as long as i don't think i am worth accepting in general.
i am not they.

sometimes i wonder how other people manage. how they manage to more or less successfully (but anyway, how do you tell if a relationship is successful) stay and maintain a relationship with as crappy a childhood, as little self-esteem, as weak a belief in themselves they had and have.

it's right then that i think that i should be able to function more or less as well as them. not only in my professional life, where i have been managing to keep the balance somehow, but also, and more importantly for me, in my private, in fact in my most private life.

and yet that most private part of my life is still solely mine. unimpeachably, calculably mine. and as far as i can see, it'll stay that way.

maybe i have grown too old by now, but somehow it doesn't seem too bad to me. not bad at all, actually.

so tell me: am i wrong or is the world?

Für den hinteren Teil beim Kickboxen: welche bluß?

Pub Med, Part After

Where we last parted was inside the slightly sleazy, definitely dirty pub, where I was standing with all around fabulous W. and The Nice Guy trying to sort out the mess The Thwumf and I had left behind. When I started to seriously lose interest in a way that I was not able to control or conceal anymore, I took a trip to the bathroom to at least clear my head a little. To get to the bathrooms you have to walk to the back of the pub past the foosball table and down the stairs. When I came back up the stairs I heard English being spoken near the foosball table. I was intrigued but not so much so that I immediately took a detour there. I wanted to check what was happening with the group of people I was a part of for that night at least. W. and The Nice Guy were still talking about The Thwumf, which did nothing for me. So I stood around for about two seconds and then turned around and went back to the foosball table where I thought I had overheard some people speak English. And I wasn't wrong: three guys were standing next to the foosball table chatting in conversational though recognizably non-native English. I don't recall exactly how but I did start a conversation with the guys, probably something remarkably unremarkable like "Why are you guys speaking English are you from the US?". Two of them were, in fact, German, and the third one they said was actually able to understand and speak German but they were talking in English nonetheless. One of them, the chattiest one, immediately proceeded to inform me that they were physicists with academic career paths, himself having already finished his doctorate and pursuing a post-doctorate at the moment, and the other two being a few years his juniors and working on their respective doctorates still. I exchanged a few interested but rather polite sentences with him when the other German of the bunch suddenly jumped in and said something about me being after their money and since they were academics there wasn't any to be after just so that I knew. He wasn't quite as elaborate as that. He was much more on point. I was dumbstruck and couldn't quite come up with an adequate response. I think I just asked why in the world he would think I was after their money (I mean, this was a sleazy pub in Kreuzberg, nobody there seemed to be rich in the strictest sense of the word, and I was still myself, so not really the ideal pre-requisites for me turning into a gold-digger). He said something about me asking about their degrees and appearantly, that is all it takes for a guy to think a woman is after his money: her asking about his academic degree. Never mind the fact that a Ph.D. is by no means a guarantee for a money-machine, quite the opposite, acutally. And never mind the fact that even a medical degree or a law degree or any of the traditionally well-paid degrees does not have the same ooomph anymore. And also never mind the fact that I did not ask about their degrees but that the huge Bavarian baritone offered them up himself quite readily.

To the other guy's credit he seemed appropriately embarrassed when I briefly explained the situation. I guess he did in fact mishear or misjudge the whole exchange. So all was well for about three seconds. Until the huge Bavarian post-doc physicist baritone asked me if I wanted to go have sex with him in the bathroom in the basement. I thought he was joking, albeit in a rather crude way, and good-naturedly replied something friendly but unmistakably negative. He seemed a little peeved and after a quick back-and-forth repeated his generous offer. I got noticeably more serious and replied in the negative again. At that point the other two left us and went to the bar. I was a little confused, must have looked it and also expressed this confusion and my beginning testiness at his insistence. He grew even more peeved, especially when I mentioned the fact that I did not think this funny and did not like being treated like a prostitute. To which his reply was: "I didn't offer you any money." There you go. I wasn't being treated like a prostitute, I was being treated like a daft prostitute who couldn't run her business because she was too busy giving it away for free to anybody who asked half-nicely.

After that I was on my way to the front of the pub to see about the rest of the birthday group when I passed the other two guys at the bar. I stopped briefly to tell them what a prick their friend was being, to which they didn't seem to know how to react and thus did nothing. Their huge, Bavarian friend, however, seemed to have had enough of this obnoxious, argumentative cunt and left. I have no idea how and when the other German who had mistaken me for a gold-digger left but very quickly and very suddenly I found myself alone with the blonde, blue-eyed, pretty 28-year-old Estonian. Boy, was he pretty. And blonde. And blue-eyed. And 28. Boy oh boy.

Real Time With Miss Sophie

Stop, Hammer time.

Disclaimer 1: This post has no particular occasion. I've been wanting to write about this topic for quite some time now, I estimate roughly for the past seventeen years or so.

Disclaimer 2: What I'm writing below is rooted in a belief in Ingeborg Bachmann's axiom that the truth is reasonable for mankind ("Die Wahrheit ist dem Menschen zumutbar").

In this particular instance, the truth is reasonable for me. I'd very much prefer the truth to anything not the truth. In almost all cases, anyway. That doesn't mean you need to speak the truth to me twentyfourseven, although I invite you to do so. All I want to say is: Do not fear. Do not think about my feelings. Do not be gentle or kind. (Do not go gentle into that good night.) To do so would be to underestimate me. I've grown, I'm growing, and I've learned that I can handle a lot. I might need to take a second. I might need to swallow and digest. I might need some time. But I'll deal. Especially because I'll know what I'm dealing with. So please, people, mutet mir die Wahrheit zu. Anything else I'll view as cowardice in the form of patronizing chivalry disguised as well-meaning concern. (By the way: "Well-meaning" is the deathblow to anyone trying to mean well.)

So shape up or ship out.

This has been Real Time With Miss Sophie.

Come see us next week for Real Time With Miss Sophie: The Retraction Edition.

Something strange instead of some strange (Part II)

Alright, so we hung out for a bit in the less densely populated part of the floor and had a jolly good time there, too. Then we encountered the couple that had previously gotten on my nerves. Or rather: one half of the couple: the girl. Please excuse this cutesy expression for a grown-ass woman, but really, this was all she projected to be: a girl. She stood behind me at the very end of the bar, where the counter hits the wall. She stood there by herself. Next to her, but not yet with her, leaned a rather conservative-looking guy wearing a green quilted jacket (by the way: wow. It was hot as hell in there) with its collar up. Obviously. He started chatting up The Girlfriend, she flirted back, he twirled her around (what's with all the twirling; did I maybe miss the memo that twirling is the thing to do now?), she obliged delightedly if not delightfully and they both continued flirting aggressively. I was watching them out of the corner of my eye when The Boyfriend stepped into my field of vision. He quickly looked around, found The Girlfriend, leaned to the side a bit in order to see with whom she was talking so animatedly, saw, turned around on the spot, and left. The room. The club. The city. The country. I had no idea which. But the force with which he stormed off might have been enough to catapult him off the earth and straight into space. For all I cared he could have stayed there and orbited the earth with a broken heart. Or ego. Idiot. Apparently, he was the only one who was allowed to twirl The Girlfriend around. Which I get. But what he should have done, I thought in this moment, was go up to The Collar and The Girlfriend and, without so much as a word or a glance to The Collar, take her and twirl her around a couple of times in front of The Collar. That should have cleared things right up.
Alas, I was wrong. He, in fact, did not leave. Well, he did leave the room, but not the club. About ten minutes of unaware flirting later, The Boyfriend came back with their jackets. He unceremoniously walked up to The Girlfriend and The Collar, handed her her jacket, put his arm around her back, and gently guided her out of the club. The Collar remained behind, a little annoyed, I assume. I couldn't suppress a smirk. Not that I wanted to.
Shortly after that episode we decided to leave. By now it was somewhere around half past three. Somehow, the excitement had abated and we felt a bit deflated. Bam, poetry. You're welcome. At that point the line for the coat check was almost as long as when we had come in. So, off to the bathroom I went, leaving J&B to wait on their own. After the five or six minutes that it took me to get into and out of the toilet the coat check line had barely moved. So I didn't feel too bad for making my friends stand in line and hold my spot for me.
After what felt like half an hour but probably only were about seven more minutes and after we had moved up in the line about two meters, seemingly out of nowhere a guy appeared at my side, let's call him The Proposer. The Proposer said something to me, I reacted, he was in a good mood, I was in a good mood, we started chatting. He said he had been trained as a hotel clerk, didn't like it and thus became a cabinet maker. Now, what I should mention to explain my immediate interest in The Proposer is that my brother, who I think is the greatest guy in the world, is a hotel industry expert and that I have always found the art of cabinetmaking to be oddly attractive and that I like to imagine myself in another life or universe as a cabinetmaker designing and producing her own successful line of furniture. Ergo: I was immediately in favor of The Proposer. Had I known then what I know now, namely that he would turn out to be The Proposer, I very likely wouldn't have continued talking to him. Or maybe I would have, just to let it play itself out and have something to tell you folks. Be that as it may, namely hypothetical, the fact is that I did talk to him and did agree to let him buy me a beer.
How this one beer turned into two and more and how he became the Proposer and why I still only came home at around eight thirty in the morning and why four strangers found themselves on New Year's morning in the almost empty tram talking about mathematics, pussy, and the potential for violence in the public space -- well, that is a story for Part III.

Something strange instead of some strange (Part I)

So, folks, the new year has come and I skidded into it on the slippery slope of alcohol and a jolly good time. Oh what a good time I had. But before I start telling that tall but true tale, I should mention that almost simultaneously to my decision to start building a life in Berlin for real I finally received the invitation to a job interview -- at home. 2012 thus ended on a very bittersweet note for me.

With this tiny shock to motivate me to make the best of my time here or anywhere, really, I was looking forward to celebrating the arrival of a new year with my friends to the fullest. All the more surprised it turned out we were when we realized after a delightfully normal but fun meal that we might not make it to midnight if we continued sitting in the kitchen. Thus, at about 10 p.m. we decided to move things along and get to the club early, like old people are wont to do.
We arrived at Magnet in Kreuzberg at about 11 p.m., had no problem getting in but experienced a kind of paradoxal universe where outside noone wants in but inside the queue for the coat check was more than ten meters long. So we spent about 20 minutes waiting for our coats to be checked, which turned out not to be too bad because the guys doing the checking were, if not the quickest of the bunch, still friendly and good-natured. After having successfully gotten rid of our outer wear, we fought our way into the smokers' bar and did what you do in said place: have a smoke. And a beer, of course. Then we scouted the other floors, of which we believed there to be two. Only after having gotten our coats before leaving did J finally figure out that there was a third floor which was not the smokers' bar. She, more than B or I, was very upset about not having discovered it before because she found the music coming from that floor to be very danceable. We did, however, have a good time with one of the other floors for the most part of the night, so that while we were dancing we didn't feel like we were missing something.
We spent most of the night at the electro-indielectro-don't-ask-me-I-just-dance floor where we had an extraordinarily good time. And not just because of the music but also because of the delightfully mixed crowd which covered everything from the cool dudes to the mellow hipsters to the relaxingly normal folks to whom I count the three of us. Ages varied comfortingly, too. At midnight there was a countdown and a happy yet non-hysteric shout-out all around. One nice young lady went around the crowd and distributed sparklers to everyone who would have one. It was a nice, very communal atmosphere among a crowd of very different strangers.
Shortly thereafter, four very drunk, very young guys of about twenty years and with hessian bags dangling unmanageably from their arms managed to conquer the slightly elevated part of the dancefloor in one corner and proceeded to have an awesome time among themselves. Not only were they not in the least obnoxious -- as young, drunk men their age very easily turn out to be -- but more than that, they were absolutely adorable and seemed to be very much content in the company of their friends. When one thoroughly likeable young woman danced up on one of the guys, he without hesitation dismissed her in a friendly manner while simultaneously flinging himself into one of his buddy's arms. It was a sight to behold. So much fun and happiness.
After several trips to the toilets for each of us, which took anywhere from five to twenty minutes, we finally decided that it was getting too crowded on our dancefloor and that it would be wise to retire to another part of the room where there was less dancing and more sitting and talking and thus more room. Lest you think that there was also less fun to be had, let me tell you what happened there. First of all, we re-met this Asian guy who was wearing a suit. We had seen him before near our place on the dancefloor. He was with this cool chick with this cool red dress in the style of the fifties. And he was wearing a skinny suit with a skinny tie. They looked like straight out of Kill Bill, but not keenly so. They were just really cool in a very relaxed and non-exerted way. Then there was this slightly weird guy, his head full of unkempt curls, making his way through the sluggish crowd and yelling what I suppose was his girlfriend's name in regular intervals. It wasn't that big a room or that big a crowd. A thorough scanning of the people around you would have yielded the same, and much less noticeable, results. And then there was the couple.
The couple who a few half-hours before happened to situate themselves next to us on the dancefloor and whom I found to be almost unbearably self-centered. He couldn't keep his hands off her, which, granted, is in itself a good thing. But not in the obnoxious, almost domineering way that he did it and which she happened to enjoy. He twirled her around, he grabbed her ass, he grabbed her thighs, he moved her hair, and she obliged. As old and worn out as the phrase is, all I could think was: "Get. A. Room." This was the couple that we encountered in the "chill-out" area of that floor. And if you want to know what happened next, and what happened after J&B left the club and I stayed, and what the indecent proposal was that I received that night and what happened on the train-ride home, you have to check back. More on what the titular "something strange" and who the titular "some strange" was will be coming soon.

Because alternate endings symbolize so much

Februar.

No body's safe.

p.s.: fear boner. scrote squad. eskimo brothers. mla. yobogoya. chalupa batman. vinegar strokes. the shiva. the sacko. the terrific lady day. the white knuckler. bobbum man. and many more.

'tis the season

Top, die Stoppuhr läuft.

Vorlesungen von ihm müssen absolut großartig sein.

Momma-Birding the Turtle a Cookie

In an unintended ironic twist, the guys rock New Girl way more than the new girl ever did.

The Noise in Germany

 8:23 PM: fantaphia: Liebi, guckst Du the voice?
 8:21 PM: Jules: Yep. Du auch?
 8:25 PM: fantaphia: Ja, mama ist noch unterwegs. Ich kränkel ein bißchen, erkältung. Und, hasse bock aufs wochenende?
 8:24 PM: Jules : Oh je, Du Arme! Der Macker erwähnte das schon. Mein Bock aufs WE hält sich in Grenzen. Bin auch grad noch voll im Packstress. Hab aber für jeden Tag jetzt was.
 8:28 PM: fantaphia: Na gott sei dank!
 8:29 PM: fantaphia: Tut mir leid, wenn ich Dich im packstress auch noch störe, aber ist noch post gekommen für mich?
 8:32 PM: fantaphia: Also, es ist glaub ich ziemlich blöd, wenn man sich einen weniger guten/bekannten song aussucht. Die erste hat, find ich, nicht so gerockt.
 8:29 PM: Jules : Quatsch, Du störst nicht Liebe! Post ist nicht mehr gekommen.
 8:33 PM: fantaphia: Okay, danke!
 8:30 PM: Jules : Fand ich auch. Aber die zweite!
 8:33 PM: fantaphia: Yup. Und der bessere song.
 8:30 PM: Jules : Aber voll!
 8:34 PM: fantaphia: Wie isset Dir? Anstrengende woche bisher?
 8:32 PM: Jules : Total. Aber sonst isset gut. Und bei Dir? Wie waren die letzten Tage?
 8:37 PM: fantaphia: Joot! Geburtstag war super, der nächste tag ein bißchen anstrengend, auch wegen der erkältungsvorläufer, glaub ich. Heut hab ich viel geschlafen. Wann bist Du denn wieder in b am sonntag?
 8:37 PM: fantaphia: Und biancas kleid geht ja mal gar nicht.
 8:36 PM: Jules : Irgendwann am frühen Abend. Aber dafür hab ich Montag frei. Juhu! Och manno, jetzt hat's Dich scheinbar doch noch richtig erwischt. Aber dann lass Dich wenigstens von Mama schön pflegen und verwöhnen.
 8:37 PM: Jules : Ps: ganz schlimmes Kleid!!
 8:40 PM: fantaphia: Immer! Die ard-themenwoche hat mich übrigens vorhin voll erwischt: begleitende reportage über eine 14jährige, die im kreise der familie am hirntumor starb. Brrrrrrr.
 8:38 PM: Jules : Ach Du Kacke. Na wunderbar. Der Macker geht die ganze Zeit schon voll ab auf die Themenwoche. Für den ist das gar nix.
 8:38 PM: Jules : Manno, ich war für die Mischelle.
 8:42 PM: fantaphia: Das dacht ich mir. Hoppla, da bin ich überrascht, ich dachte, deutschland will michelle.
 8:39 PM: Jules : Tja, Deutschland ist halt doof
 8:43 PM: fantaphia: Außer wir!
 8:43 PM: fantaphia: Marcel gabriel kenn ich gar nicht.
 8:40 PM: Jules: Das versteht sich von selbst
 8:43 PM: fantaphia: Ah doch.
 8:40 PM: Jules : Der ist cool! Das wird spannend...
 8:44 PM: fantaphia: Für wen hältste?
 8:41 PM: Jules : Ma gucken - äh hören
 8:45 PM: fantaphia: Der hat ein bißchen was von david bowie.
 8:41 PM: Jules : Der kann auf jeden Fall kein Englisch!
 8:42 PM: Jules : Ja!!
 8:45 PM: fantaphia: Dat is auch ne marzel.
 8:42 PM: Jules : Hat aber was
 8:46 PM: fantaphia: Die marzels können alle kein englisch.
 8:43 PM: Jules : Aber war ganz schön gesungen fand ich.
 8:46 PM: fantaphia: Yup.
 8:46 PM: fantaphia: Aber jesper kriegt die kleinmädchenstimmen.
 8:44 PM: Jules : Glaub ich auch.
 8:48 PM: fantaphia: Schlechte songauswahl für die kandidatin.
 8:45 PM: Jules : Schlechte musikauswahl
 8:48 PM: fantaphia: Kandidaten.
 8:45 PM: Jules : Ha!
 8:48 PM: fantaphia: Hihi!
 8:45 PM: Jules : Hähä
 8:45 PM: Jules : Bissken schief zwischendurch
 8:49 PM: fantaphia: Oh mann, wann bekommen wir endlich unsere eigene show?
 8:46 PM: Jules : Ich arbeite dran...
 8:49 PM: fantaphia: Für mich hört sich auch schief sehr grad an.
 8:46 PM: Jules : Also ick bin für marzel
 8:47 PM: Jules : Boss goss sehen das genauso wie wir
 8:47 PM: Jules : Hoss!
 8:50 PM: fantaphia: Grad is mama wiedergekommen, möglicherweise will sie was anderes gucken.
 8:51 PM: fantaphia: Jesper is krank. Jaja.
 8:48 PM: Jules : Oh nein, mit wem läster ich denn dann?
 8:51 PM: fantaphia: Hat wahrscheinlich zuviel gefeiert.
 8:48 PM: Jules : Armes haschi
 8:51 PM: fantaphia: Du kannst mich ja auf dem laufenden halten.
 8:48 PM: Jules : Auf jeden!
 8:53 PM: fantaphia: Mama guckt ein bißchen mit.
 8:51 PM: Jules : Super!
 8:55 PM: fantaphia: Jetzt grad programmiert sie aber den festplattenrekorder am tv. Ist schon einer raus von den beiden?
 9:04 PM: Jules : Jetzt...
 9:04 PM: Jules : Jesper und die Kleinmädchenstimmen. Hmpf.
 9:08 PM: fantaphia: Bin wieder mit dabei. Mama grummelt zwar irgendwas von scheißshow, aber umschalten tut sie auch nicht.
 9:08 PM: fantaphia: Schrott, wär für bowie gewesen.
 9:08 PM: Jules : Ick ooch
 9:12 PM: fantaphia: Schönes lied, aber nich so gut fürn wichtigen auftritt, find ich.
 9:08 PM: Jules : Doofer Hall!
 9:09 PM: Jules : Stimmt. Ma gucken wie das nächste wird. Bis jetzt war die Songauswahl generell nicht so doll.
 9:13 PM: fantaphia: Nope.
 9:14 PM: fantaphia: Möglicherweise stimmt was nicht mit dem sound von mamas tv.
 9:14 PM: fantaphia: Die mucke is immer laut, der gesang verschwindet ziemlich.
 9:11 PM: Jules : Ich fürchte es ist echt so
 9:12 PM: Jules : Der ist ja mal öde. Den fand ich aber in den battles schon nicht so toll.
 9:16 PM: fantaphia: Wenn der rausfliegt, ists nicht such a shame.
 9:16 PM: fantaphia: Ick bin füa isabell.
 9:15 PM: Jules : Aber hallo!
 9:19 PM: fantaphia: Können die da gar nicht exakte prozente eingeben, sondern nur mitm finger die balken verschieben?
 9:17 PM: Jules : Anscheinend. Also bis jetzt fand ich die castings wesentlich besser.
 9:21 PM: fantaphia: Yup.
 9:22 PM: fantaphia: Yey!
 9:19 PM: Jules : Endlich mal ne gute Entscheidung!
 9:23 PM: fantaphia: Boss hoss!
 9:20 PM: Jules : Jöööh
 9:21 PM: Jules : So, muss ma eben Haare waschen. Bis gleich!
 9:25 PM: fantaphia: Et geht jetz aber weiter!
 9:25 PM: fantaphia: Oder doch nicht.
 9:33 PM: Jules : So, pünktlich zurück.
 9:37 PM: fantaphia: Hervorragend!
 9:38 PM: fantaphia: Wasn das fürn lied?
 9:36 PM: Jules : Kenn ich nich!
 9:39 PM: fantaphia: Ich auch nich.
 9:36 PM: Jules : War so naja
 9:36 PM: Jules : Bisschen öde
 9:37 PM: Jules : Aber der Moderator ist übrigens ganz nett find ich
 9:40 PM: fantaphia: Rob fowler kenn ich nicht. Meine mutter beschwert sich über die abmischung.
 9:38 PM: Jules : Ich würd bei euch jetzt gern Mäuschen spielen
 9:41 PM: fantaphia: Yeah!
 9:41 PM: fantaphia: Mag das lied!
 9:39 PM: Jules : Hä? Wat is dat nochmal? Billie Jean?
 9:39 PM: Jules : Hamma!
 9:42 PM: fantaphia: Sogar in der version!
 9:39 PM: Jules : Find ich besser als das Original. Ich find Michael hatte viel geilere Songs.
 9:43 PM: fantaphia: Ich find billie jean super!
 9:41 PM: Jules : Nä
 9:44 PM: fantaphia: Aber mal im ernst: man weiß doch, dass man in so einer situation einen song wählen sollte, den die leute kennen. Ob langsam oder schnell, hauptsache bekannt.
 9:41 PM: Jules : Krass, wir haben schon gleich 10 Uhr! Wo ist die Zeit hin?
 9:45 PM: fantaphia: Und: doch!
 9:42 PM: Jules : Mein Wecker geht um halb 6 :(
 9:42 PM: Jules : Ja, bekannt sollte er sein
 9:45 PM: fantaphia: Oje.
 9:46 PM: fantaphia: Aber Du hast ja schon frische haare!
 9:43 PM: Jules : Immerhin...
 9:43 PM: Jules : Und für wen biste?
 9:47 PM: fantaphia: Rob!
 9:44 PM: Jules : Dito
 9:47 PM: fantaphia: Am anfang hab ich immer "rock" verstanden.
 9:47 PM: fantaphia: Und ich dachte: ein bißchen zu offensichtlich.
 9:44 PM: Jules : Passt auch
 9:44 PM: Jules : Hihi
 9:48 PM: fantaphia: Guckste noch bis zum ende?
 9:45 PM: Jules : Klar!
 9:48 PM: fantaphia: Mama hat schon aufgegeben. Jetzt sitzt sie am computer.
 9:45 PM: Jules : Ich hab Neuigkeiten übrigens. Von B.
 9:45 PM: Jules : Die Arme.
 9:49 PM: fantaphia: Mehr als dreimal anbieten, dass wir auch was anderes gucken können, kann ich ja nicht.
 9:49 PM: fantaphia: Was gibts denn neues?
 9:45 PM: Jules : Ich kann Dich auch auf dem Laufenden halten
 9:49 PM: fantaphia: Nö. Ich guck weiter.
 9:46 PM: Jules : Babyalarm!
 9:46 PM: Jules : Ha!
 9:50 PM: fantaphia: Babyalarm? Im ernst??? Geplant?
 9:50 PM: fantaphia: Wat is dat eigentlich für ne scheele tante da oben in der box?
 9:47 PM: Jules : Ja. Eigentlich schon. Ja.
 9:51 PM: fantaphia: "eigentlich" schon?
 9:48 PM: Jules : Voll scheel! Die hat mich schon letzte Staffel genervt!
 9:48 PM: Jules : Sie haben's einfach drauf angelegt.
 9:48 PM: Jules : Rob!
 9:48 PM: Jules : Rob rockt!
 9:52 PM: fantaphia: Aha! Na dann wirste ja tante!
 9:52 PM: fantaphia: Hurra!
 9:49 PM: Jules : Nä!! Nicht Tante!
 9:49 PM: Jules : Aber ansonsten: Hurra!
 9:52 PM: fantaphia: 131 prozent. Ich find deren mathematik super.
 9:52 PM: fantaphia: Ich nenn Dich nur noch tante jule.
 9:49 PM: Jules : Oh, Rob heult fast. Süß
 9:53 PM: fantaphia: Nee, der hat einfach ölige augen.
 9:49 PM: Jules : Da reagier ich gar nicht drauf!
 9:54 PM: fantaphia: Ha, Du kennst mich doch. Ich quengel dann so lange "tante jule tante jule tante jule", bis Du nicht anders kannst als zu reagieren.
 9:50 PM: Jules : Ach Quatsch.
 9:50 PM: Jules : Ich bin für Micha den Erzieher.
 9:51 PM: Jules : Das werden wir ja sehen
 9:54 PM: fantaphia: Die hat ja so'n rattenschwanz version 2012. Brrrr.
 9:52 PM: Jules : Das wollte ich Dir auch gerade schreiben. Geht gar nicht!!
 9:55 PM: fantaphia: Singt die eigentlich?
 9:52 PM: Jules : Hä?
 9:56 PM: fantaphia: Das war doch eher melodisch gesprochen zu anfang.
 9:56 PM: fantaphia: Hat mich sehr stark im sessel gehalten.
 9:57 PM: fantaphia: Der micha is ja knuffig.
 9:57 PM: fantaphia: Ohhhh! Musik!
 9:54 PM: Jules : Oh, das Lied ist der Hammer!
 9:55 PM: Jules : Schöööön
 9:59 PM: fantaphia: Jetzt hat mama grad den drucker angeschmissen und packt bücher in laut knisternde umschläge. Pfffff.
 9:59 PM: fantaphia: Micha for the win. Keine frage!
 9:56 PM: Jules : Yeah
 10:00 PM: fantaphia: Endlich ma gute musik!
 9:56 PM: Jules : Evi Rattenschwanz kann nach Hause gehen
 9:57 PM: Jules : Ja!!
 10:00 PM: fantaphia: Samt ratte.
 9:57 PM: Jules : :)
 9:57 PM: Jules : Der Micha hat eben echt fast geheult
 10:01 PM: fantaphia: Wann?
 10:01 PM: fantaphia: Nena wieder.
 9:58 PM: Jules : Direkt nach dem Song
 9:58 PM: Jules : Und Nena baggert Thore an
 10:01 PM: fantaphia: Oh. Nicht mitgekriegt.
 9:58 PM: Jules : Kann ich verstehen :)
 10:02 PM: fantaphia: Das mit nena und thore?
 10:02 PM: fantaphia: Echt?
 10:02 PM: fantaphia: Thore?
 9:59 PM: Jules : Joa
 9:59 PM: Jules : Joa
 9:59 PM: Jules : Ist doch süß
 10:03 PM: fantaphia: Er? Oder wie sie mit ihm umgeht?
 10:00 PM: Jules : Beides
 10:04 PM: fantaphia: Ach je, da bist Du wohl voll die zielgruppe.
 10:01 PM: Jules : Ich fürchte auch
 10:04 PM: fantaphia: Find ich herzerweichend goldig!
 10:01 PM: Jules : Hach...
 10:05 PM: fantaphia: Asymmetrisch, farbige enden, rattenschwanz. Mannmannmann.
 10:05 PM: fantaphia: Freaky d kommt gleich!
 10:01 PM: Jules : Der fiebert immer so nett mit
 10:02 PM: Jules : T!
 10:06 PM: fantaphia: Oh. Ach du je. Schande auf mein haupt.
 10:03 PM: Jules : Ich weiß sogar warum die immer Sonnenbrille trägt
 10:06 PM: fantaphia: Weißt Du das! Sogar! Warum?
 10:03 PM: Jules : Epilepsie
 10:04 PM: Jules : Ich olle Streberin
 10:07 PM: fantaphia: Etwas ausführlicher, bitte. Warum ist da die sonnenbrille nötig?
 10:04 PM: Jules : Wegen des grellen Lichts. Kann einen Anfall auslösen.
 10:08 PM: fantaphia: Aso.
 10:05 PM: Jules : Muss ma kurz den Macker Anrufen
 10:08 PM: fantaphia: Gruß.
 10:05 PM: Jules : Yo
 10:16 PM: fantaphia: Thore sieht aus, als hätte er einen sattel zwischen den beinen.
 10:17 PM: fantaphia: Da mischa!
 10:18 PM: fantaphia: Da mischa hat schon wieder pippi inne äugsken.
 10:15 PM: Jules : Jieeehaa
 10:15 PM: Jules : Sag ich doch
 10:16 PM: Jules : Der ist auch auch schwul bestimmt
 10:16 PM: Jules : Also nicht wegen des Pipis...
 10:19 PM: fantaphia: Also!!
 10:20 PM: fantaphia: Na dann is ja gut.
 10:16 PM: Jules : Freaky T!
 10:21 PM: fantaphia: Hmmmm...
 10:18 PM: Jules : Scheiß Songauswahl
 10:22 PM: fantaphia: Von wem issn das?
 10:19 PM: Jules : ?? Aber ich kenns
 10:23 PM: fantaphia: Ich auch. Kanns nur nicht identifizieren.
 10:19 PM: Jules : Wie sieht der Xavier überhaupt aus!?
 10:23 PM: fantaphia: Scheel.
 10:23 PM: fantaphia: Und im stehen noch schlimmer, weil das jackett doppelreihig ist und die jeans weit, aber nicht baggy.
 10:20 PM: Jules : Übel!
 10:24 PM: fantaphia: Indertat.
 10:24 PM: fantaphia: Wer issn die?
 10:21 PM: Jules : Iveta.
 10:22 PM: Jules : Aus Rumänien oder Bulgarien oder so.
 10:26 PM: fantaphia: Und die sieht aus wie eine miss soundso, vor allem in dem kleid.
 10:23 PM: Jules : Hach wat der Thore sich freut
 10:23 PM: Jules : Ja war die glaub ich echt schon. In ihrem südosteuropäischen Heimatland
 10:27 PM: fantaphia: Ha!
 10:27 PM: fantaphia: Rea is ja nett!
 10:24 PM: Jules : Super!
 10:24 PM: Jules : Ha, Songkritik!
 10:28 PM: fantaphia: Boss hoss!
 10:25 PM: Jules : Die besten!
 10:29 PM: fantaphia: Die allabesten!
 10:26 PM: Jules : Oh je, ich hab grad gesehen dass die Sendung bis 20 vor 12 geht. Ups.
 10:29 PM: fantaphia: Dass nich irgendeiner vom produktionsteam xavier vor dem mustermix gewarnt hat.
 10:30 PM: fantaphia: Schlecht fürs tv.
 10:27 PM: Jules : Stimmt
 10:30 PM: fantaphia: Was machste jetzt?
 10:27 PM: Jules : Kacke
 10:27 PM: Jules : Weiß nicht. Ma gucken
 10:31 PM: fantaphia: Übrigens: find es lustig, dass freaky ts song für xavier schnell war.
 10:31 PM: fantaphia: "ma gucken" is genau die richtige lösung!
 10:28 PM: Jules : Ja ne?
 10:28 PM: Jules : Herr dr. Jänkel! Oder so
 10:32 PM: fantaphia: Der geheime star is der sehr trockene notar.
 10:29 PM: Jules : Yep.
 10:29 PM: Jules : Und Neo und Evi kuscheln
 10:29 PM: Jules : Und James hat nen charmanten Accent
 10:30 PM: Jules : Boh wat ne dumme Olle
 10:33 PM: fantaphia: Hihi.
 10:30 PM: Jules : Der Notar ist der Knaller
 10:34 PM: fantaphia: Is ja aber nett, dass die rausgeworfenen noch in die "weblounge" dürfen.
 10:34 PM: fantaphia: Ich glaub, der hält das alles für ausgesprochen trivial. Ist aber dabei sehr höflich.
 10:31 PM: Jules : Yeah! Freaky!
 10:35 PM: fantaphia: Knapp! Aber richtig!
 10:33 PM: Jules : Das kann gut sein
 10:33 PM: Jules : Ja!
 10:33 PM: Jules : Die Nena ist super
 10:34 PM: Jules : Jööö. Brigitte!
 10:37 PM: fantaphia: Die nena hat vor allem immer genug glückspillem für alle!
 10:34 PM: Jules : Will ich auch
 10:34 PM: Jules : Vor allem für die Konferenz am WE
 10:38 PM: fantaphia: Herzblatt, DU bist selbst die glückspille.
 10:38 PM: Jules : Ooohhh, Du Liebe!
 10:42 PM: fantaphia: Quatsch, is einfach nur die wahrheit,
 10:39 PM: Jules : Hach
 10:39 PM: Jules : Ich glaub nach Brigitte geh ich ins Bett
 10:43 PM: fantaphia: Dat is doch auch ein passender abschluss.
 10:40 PM: Jules : Jawoll!
 10:43 PM: fantaphia: Pott!
 10:40 PM: Jules : Hui, parallel wird Bambi verliehen. Auch nett
 10:40 PM: Jules : Jaaa! Pott rockt!
 10:41 PM: Jules : Eisbärbabys!
 10:44 PM: fantaphia: Hä!
 10:41 PM: Jules : Bambi
 10:41 PM: Jules : Es gibt ne Kategorie "Unsere Erde"
 10:45 PM: fantaphia: Aso.
 10:42 PM: Jules : Der Laudator musste dem Preisträger erstmal erklären, was der Bambi ist
 10:42 PM: Jules : Auf Englisch
 10:43 PM: Jules : Voice ist spannender
 10:46 PM: fantaphia: Jetzt kam mama wieder und war entrüstet, dass es noch nciht zu ende ist, wo doch laut fernsehzeitung um 22.30 schicht im schacht ist.
 10:47 PM: fantaphia: Brigitte!
 10:43 PM: Jules : Oh je. Aber Hey, Du bist krank!
 10:44 PM: Jules : Jööö
 10:45 PM: Jules : Boa hat die en Silberblick
 10:48 PM: fantaphia: Brigitte is die ellen de generes vom pott.
 10:45 PM: Jules : Stimmt!
 10:48 PM: fantaphia: Singt die grad deutschen jazz?
 10:45 PM: Jules : Ja scheinbar. Egal. Die ist super!
 10:46 PM: Jules : Isch flipp aus
 10:50 PM: fantaphia: Bin schwer beeindruckt. Jazz is schwierig. Deutscher jazz? Fast unmöglich.
 10:47 PM: Jules : Bist Du jetzt Frau Dr. Ton?
 10:47 PM: Jules : Bei Badawi muss ich immer an was zu essen denken
 10:51 PM: fantaphia: Quatsch, hab nur klavier gespielt und unter anderem auch jazz. Und die art der melodiegestaltung ist eine bestimmte, die sich nicht so leicht aufs deutsche anwenden läßt. Das is aber auch alles, was ich weiß.
 10:52 PM: fantaphia: Ich bin gegen duos.
 10:52 PM: fantaphia: Lecko.
 10:52 PM: fantaphia: Schnarch.
 10:49 PM: Jules : Bin beeindruckt Frau Dr.
 10:49 PM: Jules : Warum gegen Duos? Generell?
 10:53 PM: fantaphia: Jo.
 10:49 PM: Jules : Warum?
 10:54 PM: fantaphia: Et heißt the voice. Nich the voices. Und tendentiell halte ich es für leichter, zu zweit die aufmerksamkeit zu fesseln, weil zum einen stimmlich abwechsungsreicher und zum anderen mehr sicherheit
 10:55 PM: fantaphia: Und sami hat n scheeles tattoo über der brust.
 10:52 PM: Jules : Mann bist Du streng. Find ich nicht so schlimm. Bin aber trotzdem für Brigitte
 10:52 PM: Jules : Yep
 10:57 PM: fantaphia: Brigitte flasht!
 10:54 PM: Jules : Is auch echt so
 10:57 PM: fantaphia: Yup.
 10:58 PM: fantaphia: Ich befürchte, deutschland wählt die geschwister.
 10:54 PM: Jules : Hilfe!
 10:55 PM: Jules : Oh, eindeutig!
 10:58 PM: fantaphia: Was?
 10:55 PM: Jules : Neeiiin!
 10:55 PM: Jules : Nena
 10:59 PM: fantaphia: ?
 10:55 PM: Jules : Was denn?
 10:59 PM: fantaphia: Wieso hilfe?
 10:56 PM: Jules : Wegen der Tusse die mit Nena gebuzzert hat
 10:59 PM: fantaphia: Aso.
 10:56 PM: Jules : Brigitte hat uns lieb
 11:00 PM: fantaphia: Schon witzig: die alte tante ausm pott sing jazz und die hippen geschwister singen im grunde neuen deutschen schlager.
 10:57 PM: Jules : Och nö
 10:57 PM: Jules : Bambi!
 10:57 PM: Jules : Salma Hayek!
 10:58 PM: Jules : Sieht die toll aus...
 11:01 PM: fantaphia: Yup!  46!
 10:58 PM: Jules : So is dat
 10:58 PM: Jules : Wat?!?
 11:02 PM: fantaphia: Ihre tochter freut sich schon auf den bambi.
 10:59 PM: Jules : Sie träumt heute Nacht von Eisbären. Nä wat süß
 11:03 PM: fantaphia: Thomas kretzschmann is aber eher unterwältigt von den topmodels.
 11:00 PM: Jules : Dachte ich mir auch so
 11:00 PM: Jules : Die sind aber auch, äh, ja...
 11:04 PM: fantaphia: Lena merkste ihre moderatorenerfahrung an, find ich. Dat kleid von der anderen is furchtbar.
 11:04 PM: fantaphia: Die durfte auch nur einen einzigen satz sagen.
 11:01 PM: Jules : Aber nen langen!
 11:05 PM: fantaphia: Und damit peter maffay nich zu klein wirkt, steckt in tabaluga ein kleiner junge.
 11:02 PM: Jules : Der Peter ist aber nicht mein Fall
 11:02 PM: Jules : Kinderarbeit!
 11:06 PM: fantaphia: Watt? Über 7 brücken is ganz großes tennis!!
 11:03 PM: Jules : Ja, aber das hier doch nicht!
 11:03 PM: Jules : Lass Dein Feuer raus, mach das beste draus... Hallo!!
 11:06 PM: fantaphia: Nö.
 11:03 PM: Jules : Wie nö?
 11:04 PM: Jules : Reim dich oder ich fress dich
 11:07 PM: fantaphia: Das hier is kein großes tennis. Noch nich mal tischtennis.
 11:04 PM: Jules : Ich dachte Tabaluga singt auch
 11:08 PM: fantaphia: Dann käm ja raus, dass da ein kind drinsteckt.
 11:05 PM: Jules : Und eine Ballerina im Nachthemd.
 11:05 PM: Jules : Ach yo
 11:05 PM: Jules : Dann halt Playback
 11:06 PM: Jules : Weiter geht's
 11:09 PM: fantaphia: Brügütte!
 11:06 PM: Jules : Daumen drücken
 11:07 PM: Jules : Boh Doris: Schnauze!
 11:11 PM: fantaphia: Die tante kann die weblounge nich so richtig animieren...
 11:08 PM: Jules : Die ist auch doof
 11:11 PM: fantaphia: Jo.
 11:11 PM: fantaphia: Brigitte!!!!!!
 11:08 PM: Jules : Uuuund...
 11:08 PM: Jules : Jööööö
 11:08 PM: Jules : Hurra!
 11:12 PM: fantaphia: Die ham ja immer noch einander.
 11:09 PM: Jules : So, ab ins Bett jetzt
 11:09 PM: Jules : Jenau
 11:13 PM: fantaphia: Gute nacht, liebe, und ein schönes wochenende Dir!
 11:13 PM: fantaphia: Deutschland is mir grad sehr sympathisch.
 11:10 PM: Jules : Danke. Und Dir gute Besserung!! Lass Dich ordentlich verwöhnen.
 11:10 PM: Jules : :)
 11:13 PM: fantaphia: Jo!
 11:10 PM: Jules : War sehr schön mit Dir den Abend zu verbringen!
 11:14 PM: fantaphia: Dito!
 11:11 PM: Jules : Jute Nacht!
 11:15 PM: fantaphia: Ebenso!

The Difference between a Monologue and a Soliloqui

"Leanne? Sorry to interrupt, Leanne, but I'm curious about something. I noticed you say the word correct a lot. When somebody says something that you agree with, you don't say 'yes' or 'uh-uh' or even 'you go, girl,' you say 'correct.' Well, it's sort of like a schoolteacher talking to a ten-year-old, you know? You're not actually agreeing or approving, it's as if the statement isn't valid until you deem it so. It's like you're an arbiter of the truth, it's a way of being smug and superior, Leanne, which is why so many fuckwits in the city use it, and now it's spread into the mouths of the spouses like some sort of contagion. Your kids will be saying it soon, from the backseat of the 4-wheel-drive Porsche, feeling safe and smug and superior. Buying a Porsche SUV for the sake of the kids' safety -- i don't think I've heard such transparently banal bullshit in my entire life."

Leerkertshausen

Casual Racism in der süddeutschen Provinz

Idylle innerorts

Idylle außerorts, frühmorgens 

Offensichtlich preist man seine Religiosität hier gerne an.

 Unterwegs

 Trotzdem gibt es keinen Gott. 

Schloß Langenstein. Mann, hier gibt es viele Schlösser. Auch wenn einige Schlößle heißen.

Ob für die Pferde auf diesem idyllisch und totenstill auf einem Berggipfel gelegenen Hof auch gilt, daß sie den Berg gerne hochgehen? 

Das itsybitsykleine Pony steht grast übrigens frei. 

Hinterm Berg gleich rechts. 

Avenging Understatement

Anti-theism.

Well great, now I have conundrumed myself by thinking about god. If I apply the law and law enforcement guideline that the absence of proof of a thing does not prove the absence of the thing to my theological debate around the existence or non-existence of god, I get stuck. Because that would mean that the assumption that there is a god is no more or less valid than the assumption that there is no god. Wouldn't it?

Now don't go breaking my heart

Louis CK FTW.

This is becoming my favorite show. 

It gets badder, Redux

And today the prize for Most Stupidest Lyrics goes to:

The Bellamy Brothers

for the supremely stupid lyrics to "If I Said You Had a Beautiful Body Would You Hold It Against Me." I am proud to say that Germany only let this song climb to #34, thus making Germany smarter than Switzerland, the Netherlands, and the UK.

Here are the lyrics in their stupid entirety (not to mention their laziness; seriously, the chorus is twice as long as the stanzas, of which there are only two):


CHORUS:
If I said you had a beautiful body
Would you hold it against me
If I swore you were an angel,
Would you treat me like the devil tonight
If I were dying of thirst
Would your flowing love come quench me
If I said you had a beautiful body
Would you hold it against me

Now we can talk all night about the weather
Tell you 'bout my friends out on the coast
I could ask alot of crazy questions
Or I could ask what I really want to know

CHORUS

Now rain can fall so soft against the window
The sun can shine so bright up in the sky
But daddy always told me, "Don't make small talk"
He said, "Come on out and said what's on your mind"

CHORUS x 2

Your witness.