You are currently browsing the monthly archive for July, 2007.
INT. Home Office - MID MORNING
In the red room, suitcase open and in a disarray. Three pairs of womens shoes sit on the side. Jen is packing and sorting, trying to fit clothes for two people for two days and a rigged laptop into a very small carry on. Frustration seeps from her pores as she pulls everything out and starts over. The shoes seem to be the sticking point. Sparky walks in carefree and curious.
Sparky: Why do you need three pairs of shoes for two days?
Jen: Well, I need the cute pink ones because they’re semi-comfortable and go with everything. A nice stacked, strappy heel, a cute round toe says “attractive, competent, won’t die when walking on cobble stones”
I want the black pointy heels because they’re hella sexy and go fantastically with the jeans, but I tend to fall in them. I wear them when I know I’ll be sitting a lot or if walking on carpet, perfect for office wear.
If I’m going anywhere other than the office, I can use the pink ones. Like if we go out to dinner or something where I might have to walk a bit, but they have a 2 kilometer range. Anything more than that and I get blisters on my toes so I’m bringing the flats just in case we go into the city or something. But the flats aren’t cute enough to wear to the office and are just a little too big since I lost weight so they’re limited in where I want to wear them. And they’re snake skin so if it rains, I have to go with the pink ones.
Sparky: (Interjecting) Snake skin isn’t water proof?
Jen: Maybe before it became a shoe, but not now and plus, the cow hide sole is totally not waterproof.
As I was saying this doesn’t even cover airport shoes. I’m making due with the pink ones for the airport, but since we are walking all over different terminals, I have to be careful so I don’t blister my toes which would ruin all my shoe plans for the next two days. And don’t even suggest it. I vowed never to wear my flat mary janes again since my soccor mom outfit. I’m too old to look little girlish no matter how much I love them and more to the point, they don’t go with either outfit.
You know, I’m really glad you brought this up. I need to go shoe shopping. I really need to find a good, stylish traveling shoe. I think we should do that in Hamburg. I need something I can wear on the plane and off. That way I wouldn’t need to bring so many, I could cut out at least one pair. Good shoes make me feel confident. And with everything that is going on, don’t you want me to feel confident? After that butcher chopped off all my hair and left me with this mullet-cum-rat tail cut, I need fabu shoes to offset bad hair.
Sparky: Arg. (throws up his hands and walks away)
End scene
************
I don’t think EcamirG has anything to worry about.
First, let me just say that the electronic curse of the Emperor’s Mill holds fast. I spilled coffee on my already wonky laptop and thus frizzled the cap locks and “A” key. It is currently at the shop awaiting a new keyboard. Of course, I won’t get it back until Friday because I need it Tuesday. Actually, I need it right this moment, but I can make due with Tuesday.
Things are a little crazy in Boweltown these days and because of this new project of mine, I’m having to, for the first time, censor myself. I mean, I have censored my stories forever as my dad reads this occasionally and he has no interest in hearing about “things that fathers don’t need to know about daughters” no matter how fantastic the stories are. He is a full blooded Italian.
However, the people I will be working with know about this blog and they know Sparky. I am not comfortable with that. They can know Sparky, they have to, but I wish this space had remained anonymous to that world. Especially right now as I could really use this space to go off about certain aspects of love, marriage and the baby carriage. The stuff they never tell you outside the self-help section of the local bookshop.
Lately, I’ve been using my Magic Eight Ball as my life coach, soothsayer and guru. Let me tell you, It never lies. And its way less expensive than a therapist. I know because I’m seeing one of those too.
So basically there is nothing I can say except for what not to do when exploring another planet because I’ve been watching so much Stargate SG1 when I’m not translating, traveling or planning. TV watching is my escape of choice since drinking, smoking and whoring is no longer a viable option. I mean, I can drink and smoke, but what fun is that without the whoring? And last I heard, we are not swingers. Damn.
In Hamburg for two days this week, London for a few days next week and then up to Hamburg if I can find a suitable apartment - I’m bringing the cats and this seems to be an international rental problem.
If I can’t find an apartment, then I’ll probably be commuting. Fly out on Sunday night and fly back Thursday night kind of commuting.
Who knows. Everything is so up in the air right now. All I can do is learn to fly.
I liked the Park Hyatt in Hamburg so much I’ve decided to move there. No, really.
Moving to Hamburg for a couple of months within the next couple of weeks. A work project -mine actually- requires on-site attendance. So I’m packing a suitcase, herding the cats into their travel bags and heading on out.
They have fish in Hamburg. I love fish. To eat, not to cuddle. I’m sure they have fish you could cuddle if you were so inclined, but that is totally not my point. My point is… I’m getting the hell out of nature, heading for a big city near the water that has an abundant supply of fresh fish to eat (not cuddle).
I have no idea what I’m getting myself into, but I can say I’m really looking forward to it.
Blistering ascentions and cold descents mirror that which I don’t want to see.
You want a bite, a bite of mine. Just a bite, you say. Never ordering your own because your honesty doesn’t always extend as far as it needs to. Are there extension cords for honesty that don’t come with self reflection?
I share because there has always been enough, searching the dark corners when there’s not. What happens to sharing when expectation resides in its place?
Treadmill running, my constant race to catch you. Up hills and down, calories burned, yet still in the same place.
Sparklies sparkle. Will they still shine tomorrow with the hope that springs eternal from the poisoned well? Hope that kills the spirit it has promised to protect?
An uncertain future, Max says. He’ll wait, if its all the same.
The blade grows, you say, once steel touches flesh; didn’t know it was so long or so sharp, didn’t expect your aim to be so true. We chose where to place our expectations. We chose where to place our truth.
And I take it. Gladly at first, knowing that only with the blood of Eden can the garden grow. I bleed now with resignation for what I sought, I have found.
We must not touch our idols; the gilt comes off in our hands.
It’s All About Teal’c
Dude, this joke cracks me up everytime I think about it. Such a Sci-Fi nerd.
When did the 80’s fashion come back. I’ve been there. It wasn’t good. Now since I’ve been cloistered in Krautland for so long I’m not sure if its just them (Germans are known for their fondness of 80’s fashion, never really having left) or a world wide pheonom. I have seen more leggings in the last week than I have since my sophmore year of high school and really, the overalls type of minidress is not all that great. If Guess? comes back with the pegged ankle zipped jeans, I’m going to be so pissed.
Please tell me Spanx is not responsible for this because I love Spanx and they love me, but if they have anything to do with this legging craze, I’m going to have to drop them like the Abydonians dropped Apophis. I cannot support this insanity. Not even if my legs look fantatic in a short skirt and tights. Not even. I will not worship false gods.
The spa was fan-fucking-tastic. I highly recommend it. We stayed only one night, but it felt like five. I think it was when I called room service looking for a protein shake for a drowsy Sparky that fell in love with the Hyatt. They said that they didn’t have anything like that on the menu, but if I explained how to make it they could do it. When I told them they needed some sort of powder, the lady on the other end of the phone said if I could tell her where to buy it, they would have it by morning and they would have for the rest of our stay.
Or it could have been the killer club sandwich or the creme brulee with the delish fruit compote or the way the room service delivery guy protected me from the view of other guests in the hall when I was signing the slip. Or the way I was pampered and told “Yes. Of course. My pleasure.” when I’ve heard nothing but false apologies, no and it can’t be done for eternity. Perhaps it was because when I was told to have a nice day, I believe they meant it. Perhaps I just needed kindness and lapped it up like a hungry kitten.
The hotel we stayed at earlier in the week suggested we take a coffee thermos from another table if we wanted coffee in the morning and it was said with such scorn that I even felt bad for asking. Man, talk about behavior modification on a cultural level.
However, after such a nice weekend I really don’t care all that much. I didn’t get an actual island, but I did swim in warm water. There might have been some diving. There was A/C in the room with the controls on my side of the bed. Al Gore would have been so disappointed in me this weekend. Not only did I crank that puppy up, we flew from Frankfurt to Hamburg and back. I also used about 20 towels and showered at least eight times over a two day period using only L’Occitane products. Friday night started off with a blood diamond, a petite flower of feminitity set in white gold now graces my ring finger. For the record, the only blood shed for that diamond was mine and then only emotionally.
So, we’re back and I have more work and a long ass e-mail promised to my friend Jono who sent me a long ass e-mail which I gulped down and then neglected to respond. Because I am a horrible, horrible e-mailer.
Dude, something happend here in the land of the Burger. Sparky’s office has lost most of its Models Inc. female population and the boys are well, lest they are reading, looking very nice these days. How do you spell hot in german? Oh yeah, I remember.
Working for a few days and hitting that day spa on Friday. I cannot wait. I am doing it all this time. I am spending the day naked, in a robe having people do things to me that should make me blush, but I’m not one to blush. I booked a room at the Hyatt this time so I don’t have to feel like a call girl when I have lunch in the restaurant. I can tell him to bill it to the room and my uncle will be joining me shortly. By the way, I don’t have any uncles. Well, not that are still married to my aunts and Uncle Vito isn’t related by O+, so to speak.
Until then it’s doing more translations and stuff too boring to write about.
She wakes up and sees he’s still sleeping. The sun peeks through the crack in the curtain. It’s what woke her up. It always wakes her up. She misses winter and its late sunrise and birds too cold to sing. He’s still sleeping. The black cat sleeps snuggled into the crook of his torso, content and safe. She wishes she could feel that way.
She rises and shimmies into her chemise and out of the bedroom intent on coffee, her early morning friend. The clouds are out accompanied by a slight breeze. On the way to the kitchen, she opens all the windows. The sleepy mugginess of night drips out the windows as the coffee drips into her cup. The cats join her, rubbing against her legs, twisting in and out in what she is sure is a complicated ritual of adoration and affection. The black one is especially loving as if making up for the night time betrayal. The guilt must be overwhelming as she allows herself to be picked up and snuggled.
Coffee in hand, cats crunching in the kitchen, she walks into her study and turns on her machine, her life line to the outside world. Their relationship is close, complicated, filled with expectations and disappointments, function and dysfunction. Today as if sensing her frustration limit, it works, starting up fast and easy.
She clicks the iTunes icon, puts on her headphones and clicks her favourite early morning playlist, the one she keeps to herself. One she is particularly proud of, having arranged the music according to a very specific theme, each song leading logically, poetically, cryptically into the next; art imitating life as if the songs hold her hopes and her disappointments and her secrets. She would like to think she complicated, but she knows she’s not. She is not a unique snow flake and anyone who took the time to look at the actual playlist would figure her out in a moment. But no one will, her secrets are safe.
She opens her e-mail and Firefox at the same time. She doesn’t know why. She has never liked e-mail as a form of communication. It’s too one-sided, too much like talking to a wall. She is so filled with thoughts and a desire to see faces and bodies, hands in movement, faces in thought, bodies at various degrees of openness. She longs to have immediate gratification to questions that keep popping up in her mind. Her e-mails tend to be a long list of questions that only get half answered in words on a screen and not in physical language; the multi-dimensional communication is what she misses. It’s how she speaks and how she listens, with her ears, her eyes, with her hands, with her head and with her heart. Mostly.
She connects to her hometown newspaper to see what has happened in the night. Not much. She clicks over to the obituaries to see what kind of day it’s going to be. It’s morbid to decide one’s day on who died the day before in a city half a world away. It helps her though, it keeps her grounded. Most are of people over 75 and most of those are over 80. A good day. People who have had long lives, lives where they lived each day to make it good or bad. Time to repair the damage or build strong connections. She loves to read the ones with tons of loving family, but when each member of the 100 member extended family is listed, it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. There are levels of grief and she doubts the 2 month old great grandchild feels anything other than gas when overfed at the service. Virginia seemed like a neat lady.
She doesn’t want the real details of Virginia’s life. It might be that Virginia preferred her orchids to kids or that she made delicious meals that wafted through the house, watering the mouths of all those lucky enough to be within range only to throw the entire thing out after one bite to ensure she got the recipe right, sharing nothing but longing with anyone. She has known people like that. But in obituaries, the clues to how one lived one’s life are more subtle and nothing is ever set in stone.
After the obituaries, she checks e-mail. Not sure if her erection is functional, Al offers her help to please the ladies. If only All knew that erections are not necessarily what pleases the ladies. Sure, they’re a good thing, but she thinks if Virginia could talk, she’d probably say erections were low on her list, or perhaps not.
The phone rings and he wakes up ready for his day. Her solitude broken, she starts his day.
Our Fourth of July included a naked chick running around our loft and posing. I was NOT the naked chick. I had promised these pictures weeks ago, but was just not interested in touching my comp so here you go. I have no idea what is work safe these days, so I’ll let you click to see boobies, small, but boobs nonetheless.
Her name is Oxsana and she was nice. It must be hard to have people running all over the place while you pose nude. It was odd.
The photographers were both Tatiana and her hubby Michael. Go see their sites for more naked chicks.
By the way, she is sitting on my hobbit wood table Actually, its an acacia root made into a table. I call it a hobbit wood table for household marketing purposes. It took months of pressuring Sparky to purchase it and I am so glad it was used for such a good cause. Its a lovely table.
I’m looking for an island. This is what I want.
- on the beach
- air conditioned
- snorkling nearby
- warm water
- outdoor pools
- no sharks (land or otherwise)
- relativley close to europe
I’m a luxury bitch and don’t want to rough it. I hate people and really want to chill out. This means I am not looking for a party place.
Any ideas?
An e-mail exchange between Sparky and I.
From: Sparky
Sent: 29 June 2007 15:54
To: Cupcake
Subject: Ease of use…
First day of sale – just to answer possible customer questions:
http://www.apple.com/iphone/
THAT is Apple – watch the “finger tips”
From: Cupcake
Sent: 29 June 2007 16:24
To: Sparky
Subject: Ease of use…
While watching an apple clip windows stopped functioning and closed down my browser
I think I have figured out my problem.
Let me just say, thank god this is not true. If it were, I’d be horrified. I would hate to be known as the up-the-butt girl. Its like being pregnant. When you’re pregnant, everyone knows you’ve done it. Even your dad. Gross. Sorry Claire, but I know you did it.
In other less body changing news, Carol is coming out in September. She has September 29th free and I’m trying to organize a mini meet up. most of you expats know, love and adore Carol. So, the options are dependant on the number of people wanting to meet and greet carol and the lovely Elizabeth.
We can meet in Frankfurt and spend the day and night eating and drinking and gabbing or again, depending on the number of people, I can host a little gathering at HS HQs. Who’s interested?
And we have a new expat among us. Audrey, a girl from my heimat of San Francisco, has officially made the leap across the pond and currently resides in Munich. I hear she’s been lurking around for a while so go over and say hello.
Phew, a busy weekend and funnily enough a nice quiet Monday. Never thought I’d look forward to a Monday. Today is rainy and a perfect day to finish up writing projects. A bullet list to get my mind focused.
- I did the rating thing from Tink. I got an NC-17 rating for:
fucking (5x) pain (4x) asshole (3x) death (2x) poop (1x)
Obviously, they missed a lot. I know there are at least three pussy references and perhaps a horse cock somewhere. At least horse cock comes up in conversation frequently, but we live next to a stable so we actually see a lot of that. (working in that x-rating!)
- We had Ina and Danny over yesterday. Ina and Danny are the master students behind the Everydayblogger project. Hopefully, my unknown movie star qualities will become visible on film. Very cool people indeed. Go fill out their survey.
- During the interview, Sparky was forbidden from mentioning the following four subjects, subjects that invariably come up in every social event/visit we make: 1. We are not swingers. 2. Jews are the Master Race. 3. Jewish women are hella hot, esp with a noble British accent 4. TCLTC (Tom Cruise Loves the Cock) because we don’t know if that’s true and do not want to be sued by thetans or Xenu or locked in a volcano and 5. horse cock.
- Wednesday is not only the Fourth of July, but my four year anniversary for living in Krautland. Time flies when you’re having fun and all.
- We have a photo shoot Wednesday here in our loft. Good thing Sparky cleaned the windows for Danny and Ina. There might be a naked lady photo on my blog come Thursday if I can convince the photographers to give me one. Oh, and I’m not the naked lady. I might be a overt exhibitionist in thought, but only accidental exhibitionist in body.
I’m kinda shot for anything really creative today for some reason. I just can’t find the muse. She must be working overtime elsewhere. perhaps she’s in the translation work I need to finish.
