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I told Jen I’d give her 1000 words on why the Italian Diving Team sucks, but I’m bailing for two reasons: 1) DJ Gallo is way funnier than me , and 2) 1000 words aren’t nearly enough.
I’d still like to do something World Cup related for her, so I’m here to review some of the music from the games. Without links to the actual songs, which I’m too lazy to dig up, this entry is probably more useless than a Mensa application for Britney Spears. But word is bond, son. Word is bond. Without further ado* -
“Football’s Coming Home” – by Three Lions
This song makes me think of a bunch of fat British guys with their shirts off doing leg kicks in a Rockettes line. I’m not sure if I’ve ever witnessed that event live, but it could very well be that I blocked it from memory. I’m sure the Brits couldn’t be happier that the world has chosen to adopt this song, thereby tainting England’s boast of being the home of football. It could be worse, though. The song could be about penalty kicks.
“Hips Don’t Lie” – by Shakira
Did you ever notice that Shakira sounds deaf when she sings? Nothing against deaf people, but next time you hear one of her songs, think about it. Also, I’m tired of Shakira making overtly sexual references then claiming she didn’t mean it in that way. You get a free pass once, but after your twelfth English album, you can no longer plead innocence. What’s next, a song called “Strip Me Naked and Do Me From Behind,” that’s supposedly about overcoming shyness? To paraphrase the great Dave Chapelle, “you may not be a ho, but you’re wearing the uniform.”
We’re German” – sung to the tune of “We’re Jammin” by Bob Marley
I can’t get this song out of my head. I’m walking around Frankfurt singing “We’re German, we’re German, we’re German, we’re German, we’re German, we’re German, we’re German, we’re German… and I hope you like Germans too.” I’m sure nothing would please Marley more.
“Ten German Bombers”
This one is sort of like 99 bottles of beer, except instead of taking one down and passing it around, they are getting shot down by the RAF (Royal Air Force). The Germans counter with aggressive flag-waving, although I think they lose on this one (again).
“Wish You Were English” – sung to the tune of “Guantamera”
Continuing on the theme of quiet humility.
“Ein Miro Klose” – also sung to the tune of “Guantamera”
Miroslav Klose, star of the German team and leading goal-scorer in the World Cup, is a Fussball Gott, according to another song I heard. He’s also Polish.
“Love Generation” – by Bob Sinclair
This song must have been played at least once every 15 minutes during the entire month of June. In case you don’t know it by name (consider yourself lucky), it’s that song with all the whistling. I’m nothing if not a master of description.
“You All Live in a Convict Colony” – sung to the tune of “Yellow Submarine” by The Beatles
Aimed at Australians. I never actually heard this one being sung, but my brother told me about it and I thought it was mildly amusing.
“Oleeee, ole, ole, oleeeee… USAAAA, USAAAA” – by Hamish
I made this one up, but I’m hoping it’ll catch on by the next world cup. I’m also copyrighting it, so don’t get any ideas.
You may have noticed this list is dominated by English and German songs, mostly because I can understand little else. That’s unfortunate because the Ukrainian songs are awesome, and I assume they all translate (roughly) to: The Ukraine is STRONG!
-Hamish, head writer and lead singer of Hamishblog.com
*That may be the first time “Word is bond” was followed by “Without further ado.” I keeps it gangsta.
We the Wondertwins and Jennifer have a “friendly” competition; we collect countries. The rules for our competition have been up for debate for some time now, and the Wondertwins decided to settle this once and for all. The rules are as follows:
1. One must stay within a country’s borders for at least 24 consecutive hours.
2. If one has traditional food of that country, 2 consecutive hours are all that is required within the country borders.
3. If one is assaulted and permanently scared in a foreign country that person automatically gets that country once scar is verified by other siblings.
4. A two country bonus will be awarded for anyone who is killed in a foreign country (bonus will be awarded to reincarnated soul upon verification that soul belongs to dead sibling).
STIPULATIONS
1. Airplanes and airports are neutral territory and therefore do not count as time spent in any country.
2. Rules are retroactive as of Jan 1, 2006.
3. Rules may be amended only by majority vote of the three siblings.
Comments are welcome from impartial readers.
Following on with Jen’s subject of asses, I’d like to throw in my 2 cents. No, I won’t be posting a photo of my ass.
Germans seem to have a thing about asses.
The past form of the verb ‘essen’ is ‘ass’ (but with that funny B thing).
Theres a town on the Rhein called Assmannshausen (Ass Man’s House?).
Lets not forget the photo of the Ass Team that I took last year at a baseball game in Bonn.
What’s up with all the asses?
This photo prompted a self-realization this morning: I don’t smile enough.
It’s not something you think about as you chore through daily life and deal with all its ups and downs but when your husband and kids tell you that you don’t smile enough, you have to stop for a moment and face the music and then question, why?
I don’t know why. It’s probably the same reason you may not know why if you fall under the same category. I suppose life just gets too hectic to stop and taste the cherries (no puns intended there). As I’m approaching my 35th birthday, LOTS of things are running through my mind. When I turned 29 I thought life was over but then I remembered my mom telling me that the thirties were the best years in life: you still look good, you’re as thin as you’ll ever be from that point on, there’s no wrinkles yet and you gain maturity.
I had a huge blowout for my 30th, then one year later faced a marital separation which ultimately led to my expat adventures, a new marriage and now a new baby. Wow! How life takes you on these wild adventures I’ll never fully understand but I feel like the last five years just blew past me like the harsh winds in a desert storm. My eyes are still recovering from the grains of sand that flew in them and only now am I beginning to see clearly.
I have mixed emotions about this upcoming birthday. First, in my naive 20-something thought patterns, I thought I was going to be and do everything I ever wanted by the time I was 25. That’s a laugh…now that I know better. When it didn’t all happen I decided to not put a time limit on it because by that time I smartened up enough to know that things never turn out as you plan. So, is spontaneity the spice of life?
On a spontaneous whim I decided to give Germany a try. Though life hasn’t been very spontaneous since, that one move prompted a life I had always wanted but never thought I’d get. There were aspects missing in that dream I got but then I realized that I never got specific enough to get exactly what I wanted so with such generalizations like, I want to live in Europe and I want my daughter to grow up with a European education and blah, blah, blah, I actually did get exactly what I wanted. I got the first two exactly as I wanted but then the rest of life swirled in an odd way in order for me to get there.
So here I am facing the ten-year mark of when I thought I’d reach a certain place in my life and I can’t help but wonder if living life with naivety is wrong. Sometimes when we know the true difficulty of something before we begin we tend to shy away from actually trying to achieve it. Back in my early years as a waitress in a diner full of 65+ retirees, many of my dreams were shot down by their “words of wisdom” and advice warning me that usually dreams don’t come true because life slaps us down too hard and too often.
They called that diner “God’s Waiting Room” for a reason. I think back now and see that as they ate their bacon and eggs, complaining about politics and bugging me whether or not their coffee was really decaffeinated, their dreams were gone and not because they were old but because they had given up. With a mindset like that, I might as well shoot myself now.
So here’s a toast to all those individuals who consciously choose to smile, dream and try because life is meant to be the adventure that leads to the destination and not the other way around. Had I figured out this shit at 25 I might have had ten years of more happiness, fun, spontaneity and wild memories. But as mom said, the thirties are your best years, enjoy them. I intend to.
Smile because before you know it, you’ll need dentures! And I have a great smile. So do you.
Namaste, Tatiana von Tauber
Well, Since my sister is in rehab right now, I figured I would tell a story about a defining moment my sister created that forever changed my life for the better. A few things you have to understand about the relationship we have, while growing up we did nothing but fight and scheme on each other. As we got older we started growing closer and when our mother died, there was a while when we felt we were all that each other had. Another effect Mom’s departure had on me was that I started a cycle of heavy drinking and partying, a downward spiral I would not come out of for a few years.
One instance while black-out, belligerently inebriated, a friend and I decided to go for a drive to get more alcohol. I’ll skip the details of the night, but the end result was me, spinning out in my truck and hitting a row of parked cars. Little damage was done to the parked cars, but the whole side of my truck was trashed. Being drunk, young, and not wanting to deal with this situation I left the scene and some how made it to my girlfriends house. The only thing I know that can make a horrible hang over worse, is having a horrible hang over, a thrashed truck, and trying to piece together what the hell happened last night.
Still not wanting to deal with the situation I stayed out of that town for a while hoping it would all pass over and take care of itself in time. So I spent the next few days with a pain in my stomach. Its that sick feeling you get when you know you have to do something you don’t want to, so you try not to think about and pretend it doesn’t exist. Then I get the call.
“hello?” I answer
“Jeff, what is going on?” Sis asks
“What do you mean?” I say, still pretending like that pain isn’t there
“Two sheriffs just came to my house asking where you are, they said you involved in a felony hit-and-run, and they needed you to turn yourself in and take care of this.”
At this point my face turns pale, that ill feeling in my stomach I was ignoring is now raging through-out my chest and heart. A few things flash threw my mind, the one that sticks out is my future as a felon. I now realize that I can’t live a “normal” life. I now have to live the life of a criminal. I can’t get a real job, I’m going to have to steal and fence for a living and probably never come out of the bottle again so that I will never have to deal with myself again. All this, after I get out after 3 years good behavior. I see myself tied to my truck, my once cherry low rider now dented and nauseating truck, for the rest of my life. I sleep there, live out of there, everything. Our fate, intertwined. We spun out of control together only to emerge a faint glow of the thing we were before, it will become the symbol of when I hit bottom and never resurfaced. I’ll be another deadbeat 
brother/son/nephew/father?.. In time, probably.
All of that in the forward half of a blink, the back half was dedicated to my response.
I came clean. I told here everything, cried, then told her more.
“You see how that feels?” She explained “That is how close you were, that is where you are headed if you keep this up. The cops didn’t come, your friend called me and told me what happened.”
I’m still shaking at this point
“We need to see what we are going to do about this and straighten your life out.”
I still get chills.
After that conversation I began the task of crawling upward to the world of responsibility and adulthood. I’m not going to say there weren’t a couple more stumbles along the way, there were for sure. Though, seven years later I am proud of the person I have become, but never as happy as when my sis, my guiding light, tells me that she is proud of me.
To this day, any new friends I meet have to meet my sister before I’ll let them into my inner circle. I just hope I can be the sturdy rock for my little sister like my older sister was for me.
I love you Jen.
As a German resident, I feel it is my duty to congratulate the hell out of the Germans. Job well done on the World Cup! Wait til mt daughter finds out in the morning. She’ll be as loud and excited as the stadium in Stuttgart is now.
CONGRATULATIONS DEUTSCHLAND!
I really need more sex in my life. It dawned on me this morning that the lack of post-baby sex has really dampened my creative spirit, to say the least. I’ve been staring at a blank screen for hours trying to find enticement from the depths of my unmotivated mind. It could be the baby, though. I tried my mood at creativity today but all Squeaky does is grunt and squeak and makes these noises that disturb my erotic creative flow. If I had a penis, it’d be shriveled.
I bet Jen and Sparky don’t have this problem. Maybe what I need is a babysitter, and then I could have my cake and eat it too, if you know what I mean 
How long did Jen say she would be gone?
- tatiana, guest blogger
THIS should be fun. A guest blogger. On MY blog, I’m very positive and try to send out that “life is great” attitude. But on Jenny’s blog, I’m going to let out my sarcastic, complaining self. At least for today because today is a good complaining day.
First off, Germany lost their World Cup chance. This shouldn’t bother me because I am neither German nor Italian, but it does. I’m Czech by default, American by parent’s choice and international by personal preference. Don’t label me. I don’t like it.
Second, the German school system is great except for one thing: their damn schedule. It changes on a dime and I’m lucky to get a 24-hour notice that my daughter will be home either early or late from school. Never mind the doctor or personal appointments I need to suddenly cancel. Today my daughter is late. I suppose I got a notice telling me about it but I’m still learning German, so who knows. This normally wouldn’t be a problem except that I’ve cancelled and rescheduled three times in a row with this particular doctor. The only thing that should keep her okay with all my unexpected changes is that for the past two years she’s made a small fortune off my daughter’s eczema.
Third, it’s hot. F-N hot. Being a 20+ year resident of South Florida (God, that makes me sound old) it would be reasonable to think that heat would be something that my body would accept if not be used to. W R O N G !
I hate heat, weather heat that is. I hate it more when I’m stuck in an attic apartment with no air conditioner. The only way a true Floridian can survive in palm tree heaven is with air-conditioning because otherwise it would be like living in swampland and the inhabitants would become mosquito food. Even with five fans blowing in the apartment here, I’m sweating and annoyed and aggravated and I just can’t create like this. All I can do is bitch…and it’s nice that I can do it on Jenny’s blog.
Did I mention I hate heat? I’ve got to move to the Alps.
Fourth, I’m struggling with a 3 month old who seems to have nipple confusion or maybe it’s nipple preference. Simply put, my nipples are too much work for her little mouth to express milk and she is leaning toward the artificial kind. This would be okay if I didn’t have such guilt issues of weaning her off the breast so soon. I lasted 9 months with my first daughter and hoped to last at least 6 with this one. But noooooOOOOooo! Little Aries Squeaky over here likes it her way and that way is the ease of the artificial nipple flow. Breasts are no longer in.
I tried to think of a fifth complaint but realized that if I have to think too hard about it, I don’t have one. So, if this is all I have to bitch about, life’s not that bad. Today, that is.
Oh, let me introduce myself. I’m Tatiana. Jen and I met at a writer’s workshop several years ago in Frankfurt. Both of us arrived on our personal expat adventure in Germany at relatively the same time and I think we were both hungry for familiar backgrounds, strong coffee, packs of cigarettes and English conversation. Who knew we’d end up best friends?
A lot has changed in three years. For one, both of us quit smoking. And for intelligent women who just happen to be writers and see eye to eye on just enough issues to love each other and disagree on just enough issues to fuel the nervous twitch of a cigarette need, that is something for both of us to be proud of. But, I’ll have to admit, the thought of becoming a ‘social smoker’ has days when it’s appealing. Too bad I’m a commitment individual. When I start something I try keep doing it and make it a habit.
The next thing on our agenda is weight loss. Jen has her personal program ready and in the works and I’m determined to loose this extra baby weight by my 35th birthday, in five weeks. Fifteen to 20 American pounds in five weeks. Is this possible? Will Jenny beat me and loose more than I?
Stay tuned to find out. Cause, like I said, I’m a commitment kind of person. And I’m committed to have skinny sex first!
I bid you well,
Tatiana von Tauber
Today is my three-year anniversary in Germany. I actually had to count on my fingers to figure that out because it feels like I’ve been here forever. Okay, i even did the math wrong and my dad had to correct me.
I haven’t had time to reflect on what I’ve learned, where I’ve been and all that jazz because coincidently, today I’m taking another trip. I think this trip will be just as life changing as moving to Germany. And I don’t have to learn another language.
I don’t like to jinx things, so I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. I will say it includes some kick-a-boo joy juice, cameras, robots and the Wizard of Oz or rather the man behind the curtain.
In my absence, a couple of people will be guest posting. Von Tauber, the mother of TwinkleToes will be here. She’s more of a sexy voice than I am. Check out her photos. They’re not work safe, but they are gorgeous. Hamish and J as well, I hope. They’ll post as they have time. My brother and sister might do a joint post, which worries me to no end because I will not be able to do a thing about it. WonderTwins, watch your selves.
Sparky will come in with the requisite Kylie post. I’ve tried to dissuade Sparky’s obsession by explaining that Kylie is really Kyle in drag. Danii Minogue is really pissed because her brother is a better woman than she is thus the extensive amount of plastic surgery. Then I feel really bad because of the breast cancer thing and shut up. So count on Kylie’s Ass while I’m gone.
Actually, there might be more updates while I’m gone then there have been in the last few weeks.
On a different note… Check out Dropping Knowledge. It’s an organized forum to collect questions that actual people from around the world, not politicians, have in regards to the world. After the collection process is over, they will analyze the questions and form NGOs to address some of the questions. The idea is that we as individuals in this global community CAN have impact, that our voice matters, we CAN make a difference. It’s a cool idea and deserves some attention.
See you soon (I hope!)
Conversation between Sparky and I.
Sparky: “This song really makes me move my head.”
Jen: “Move your head? Isn’t it supposed to make you move your hips or your feet?”
Sparky: “I’m a white guy. We dance from the neck up.”
