Wow, almost a month. Sweet.

What can I say? Unless I get paid to be an author, you're not going to get much out of me! I'm only doing this to salute Columbus. Thanks, Chris, for getting me tomorrow off. It seems like I have plenty of deep thoughts to blog about, but lack the motivation to follow through. I blame work for making me think too much. It sucks the life out of me sometimes. :) Fortunately I'll practically be off for the next month so I should be refreshed... Why? Check out the schedule:

Oct 14: Shannon arrives!
Oct 15: Cologne
Oct 16-18: Prague
Oct 19: Frankfurt? Stuttgart? Scenic Hanau? Sleep?
Oct 20-21: Drink to 26 years of insanity in Berlin
Oct 22: Hopefully make it to the airport to ship Snorm back
Oct 25-26: Scenic Baumholder, Germany (Amie knows what I'm talking about. Go ahead, be jealous.)
Oct 27-Nov 2: Dad's visit (on the agenda: Belgium? Frenchies? He'll probably just want to see dirt AKA battlefields. I'm having vivid flashbacks to childhood vacations to Tennessee and Kentucky.)
Nov 4: Birthday fiesta chez Tara (everyone's invited though the ocean may prove to be a big barrier)
Nov 12-15ish: Colorado!! (I was accepted into a mentor program and get to travel there for orientation. I'll spend more time on the plane than at the conference, but that's cool. I'll also get to go TDY for a week sometime next year for my shadow assignment. I'm hoping for DC because that has the potential to get out of control. :) I could make up for lost time.)

After that my life will return to the boring mess it is now. Did I mention that I went to Munich for Oktoberfest last weekend? I even got away with two steins... ;)

My obligatory September post

Yes, I know I don't update. But what can I say? I don't do anything worth writing about. It's not like I've been touring the communist bloc or preparing to move or anything. I guess I should explain these things...

I spent Labor Day weekend in Vienna, Austria. We flew into Bratislava, Slovakia which means I got to visit my first ex-communist country! It was sweet because it's super cheap. The hotel even had a nice topless bar with lesbian strip show. No, I DID NOT GO TO IT! :) I just wish I had taken a pic of the sign as evidence, but who can make up things like that? I highly recommend Vienna to anyone--it's been my favorite place so far!

In late breaking news: I'll be moving in 4 days. There's nothing I love more than a last minute move! More details can be revealed via email once I can be assured that my actions are not tracked by my current landlord. :) hehehe You know I can't do anything without some kind of drama... :)

Other than that, not much new. :) I'm just looking forward to Oct 14: the arrival of Snorman!

Congratulations, Annemarie and Tim!

In honor of Annemarie and Tim's wedding last weekend, I've chosen some appropriate food-related baby names that will go with the last name Cook. :) This is a work in progress, so feel free to contribute!

Cookie

Apple

Plum

Peach(es)

Margarita

Cherry

Coco/Cocoa

Ambrosia

Mango

Chip

Chuck (beef!)

Jasmine (rice!)

Purvis (no joke: a 2-syllable boy's name of Anglo-Saxon/French origin, means: Food)

Brooke (just because it rhymes!)

Congratulations, Am and Tim!

Just call me Lisa

I know I haven't blogged lately, but I've been a combination of busy and lazy! The heat took it out of me--I even had photos to back me up, but had no desire to do more than lay around when the topic was relevant. Now that the heat is gone and the US is still super hot, I can't appropriately comment on it without fearing retribution. That does not mean that I want to hear any of you complain about the heat when you have air conditioning--try to work when it's 95 degrees without AC and then we'll talk.

Give me some good ideas if you want me to blog. I'm already working on Christine's suggestion about German Walmarts, among other things. :) Like Amie, I prefer to use this blog as a distraction at work. I won't ever publish my blog at work, but that wouldn't keep me from composing/brainstorming while there. Unfortunately I've had a challenging month in which I was doing more work than I care to admit. Topics that could be discussed if they de-bore themselves: Toby Keith concert from months ago, Rome, Strasbourg, and various Heidelberg weekends. Maybe a list of things I like and hate about Germany... or a weekly check on how much weight I've gained? :)

Things I like about Germany:
1. Getting my eyebrows done for $3.

Things I don't like about Germany:
1. Having to drive 75 minutes to Heidelberg to get my eyebrows done. Also having to wait 5 1/2 months to find a place to have it done, thereby scaring small children and proving that I made the right decision in not becoming a beautician.

Happy 4th of July (kinda)

Yeah, yeah, I'm 6 days late, blah blah blah. I just have to comment on my first true American holiday since moving to 'ze Fahzahland'. I spent most of the day lounging around the house. It was too hot to do anything else, as Europeans haven’t discovered the American invention called AIR CONDITIONING. They don’t think they “need” it when it’s 90 degrees outside because “it’s really not hot for that long”. Um, ten minutes was too long, but I’ll quit my whining.

There were fireworks somewhere on post, but I didn't go. Instead I watched the Germany/Italy game. Should I feel bad for skipping fireworks for a Germany game while sporting a Germany shirt and England bracelet? (At that point I still didn't believe that England had lost--denial. I was very angry that Portugal stole another Stuttgart weekend from me.) I'm pretty sure it's sacrilegious to be wearing England flair on the holiday that celebrates us telling them to kiss it. But... that's how I roll. :) The game lasted forever just to spite me. The ending made up for it, even though I was sad to see Germany lose. It was hilarious to hear the sudden silence in the neighborhood when Italy scored, only to be broken by a solitary, delayed NEIN! I guess you had to be there.

Happy Birthday, Scarlett and the Blog with no name!

I just realized that I started my blog one year ago today... and Scarlett hit 10,000 miles! If you're into numbers, here's a good one for you: I hit 10,000 miles, it was 100 degrees on my thermometer at the time, and I hit 110 on the autobahn. 0s and 10s will win you millions! I swear. If that's true, I get a cut!

One more lifelong dream accomplished...

My backlog of blogs is getting out of control. I still haven’t talked about Toby Keith, Belgium, or the many World Cup situations that I have encountered. I’ll go ahead and knock out the big one here: TARA WITH 50,000 HOOLIGANS!

I went to Stuttgart the weekend that England played Ecuador (yes, I know that was over 10 days ago). What a blast! At least it was until I started to speak… and then I got clever questions like: are you from America or something? I love throwing people into mass confusion—there aren’t a whole lot of American females out there that can list off England’s players and their corresponding Premiership team. (I do have to admit that I did occasionally whip out the fake British accent to avoid too much harassment… though really they do like Americans most of the time—we both speak English and that’s a big plus.)

Some fun chants that I enjoyed:

1. You can shove your f$#*%g Ballack up your ass. (Ballack plays for Germany and scored the goal that beat the US in 2002. He’s the reason my brother hates Germany. Well, among other things. Also an amusing song considering they weren’t even playing Germany.)
2. There were 5 German bombers in the air… and the RAF from England shot them down. (This song starts at 10 and works down like 99 Bottles of Beer. Yep, still not playing Germany.)
3. If you’re for England, shoes off. (Very amusing to see drunks attempt. – See photo below.)

Fun situations that improved my love of the Brits:

1. Getting called luv at least 3 times. I still laugh at that.
2. Getting compliments on my “suntan.” (Maybe that’s one of the corny pickup lines they teach in schools there?) Apparently the Brits love white girls with some color (I have photographic proof, but Jebus my hair looks scary) .… I got multiple comments in Stuttgart and Frankfurt about it or I would have thought it was a fluke.
   
3. Cutie (though obviously not bright) after 10 minutes of conversation: Where are you from? Me: The States Cutie: You’re American? Me: Um, yeah. That’s why I talk this way. Cutie: F%$&! All the pretty ones are.
4. “No really, I like Americans. Vegas is great!”

I met more fun Brits on the train, just as I did coming back from Kaiserslautern the weekend before. These guys were crazy—they stopped the Polizei every time they walked by on patrol to tell them that I was American. Luckily we had a calm train and they actually laughed about it. I had never seen before, and will likely never see again, a polizei laughing on duty. They might give me a hard time about being American (all in good fun, of course), but I could give it right back. Examples:

1. “Shouldn’t you be off starting a war?” My response: Sure. Grab a gun and let’s go. – Primarily is response to their larger distaste of Britain going to Iraq than the US starting it all.
2. A spider was crawling across the table. The Spanish chick tried to save it and the Brits tried to ignore it. They commented that I as an American would smash it. My response: “Actually, I’d grab a gun and shoot it.” They loved that one... Too bad I’m one of the four Americans that doesn’t own a gun… Too bad I didn’t blog before or I could have remember more than this.
   

I must not have been too “American” for them since they were trying to talk me into going to Hannover (or somewhere else far away?) with them instead of going to work. Well, I didn’t go to Hannover, but I didn’t go to work either. ;) I didn’t get home until 2am! Give me a break!

Overall the "hooligans" (none of the hardcore hooligans were there so I don't know that these peeps would count) were everything I hoped they would be. I have the videos to prove it--too bad I can't post them here. I missed out on all the riots that allegedly happened. I'll definitely be hitting up some games in the UK this fall. :) The night ended in such a typical way... There was another game on and they shut down the fan area because of thunderstorms. Basically they told 40,000 people to go find cover somewhere else. It was brilliant. Though I guess it was pretty dark... as you can see in this pic with Beckham. *tear*

Stupid idea #2359853

I've got my ticket booked for Stuttgart. That means I'll be spending Sunday with English fans. I'll try not to get arrested, but I'm not going to promise anything. haha Who knows how rowdy they might get if England lose? :) Saturday it's either Leipzig or Frankfurt depending on how adventurous I want to be... what will I do with myself when World Cup is over? :)

Not quite the Quidditch World Cup, but close...

Best… weekend… ever… I went to Kaiserslautern to watch the USA/Italy game at the fanfest area, since I couldn’t actually score tickets without selling my soul. For the first time in four months, I was able to walk around and act American without feeling like a jackass. I knew it was okay when I saw this sign:

I got there around noon to meet my new friend, Erika. I have now resorted to international harassment to get people to do things with me, as she met me there from France. Thanks, Trisha, for supporting my wannabe hooliganism. On the train from Frankfurt I met a guy that works for ESPN who ended up hanging out with us for the day. He seriously has the coolest job ever. He spent a month in France for the French Open, scored a ticket for the World Cup during his 5 days off, and will be going to London for the next few weeks for Wimbledon. That’s the kind of job I want!

I also found out where I want to go on my next vacation: Trinidad and Tobago. Those people rock, though they sent some crazy blue devils after me during the parade/carnival (see below). I just wish I had a video of the freaky dance thing they were doing. I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but that… was… awesome! I’m ticked off I couldn’t find a good T&T shirt before I left. (In fact, I didn’t get any souvenirs, which is quite disappointing considering I was there for 16 hours.) They didn’t really have much and THERE’S ALWAYS NEXT WEEKEND! Hopefully I’ll be going to Stuttgart to hang out with the hooligans and watch England beat… Germany? Tomorrow is a crucial day in the planning of Tara’s weekend…

It was all fun and games until the match started… That’s when international friendliness flew out the window. After Italy’s goal, the moron about 5 feet from me decided to light off a flare. This is not an intelligent idea when there are pissed off looking German security guards 50 feet from you, though I don’t know that they ever caught the guy. He lit it and bolted… I thought a brawl was going to start when an American put it out with his beer. Also, not a good idea… and seriously: why waste beer!?! I also enjoyed when an American got on his buddy’s shoulders to wave his flag around. Italian guy decided he would like to do it too… and then proceeded to start a flag jousting match. I’m good at picking the troublemakers in the crowd. What better way to make it on to ESPN?

Two or three red cards later and it was really on. I am soooo glad there was a draw or there might have been some craziness. I knew it was bad as soon as the riot cam showed up after the first goal. For those that don’t know, the riot cam is the helicopter that’s sent out for crowd surveillance. I will not comment on the officiating of the game. I will only refer you to this article, which properly displays how much the USA got screwed (notice it’s British, which means impartial): http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/world_cup_2006/4853182.stm

It’s fun having crazy Italian guys talk to you in babbly Italian… I would always turn to my friend, who speaks Spanish, as if that were the same thing and she would instantly translate. Those Italians sure are kissy. Jebus.

It’s great how you meet people at these things. I know Erika met her soulmate when a guy who had been peeing on the side of a building asked us to hold his beer while he zipped his pants. I let her take that one… Ends up this fool hangs out in Frankfurt and told us where to go to meet up with him. Yeah, I’ll get right on that.

About 6 hours after the game was over, we finally got on our train home. That was certainly a highlight since we were in the last car near the bathroom. One would think that a train leaving at 4am would not be full. Wrong. I’m just glad I got a seat (actually, I’m pretty sure we stole them from some Italians—you steal our game, we steal your seats, bitches). Let’s just say there was never only one person in the bathroom and God knows what was going on in there most of the time.

Everyone likes to harass me about my newly developed love of beer, but it helped me make new friends (well, the kind you talk to for awhile and never see again, but still…) Even Australians with kangaroos on their heads! I had many people ask me if I actually drank the 5 beers in the cups I was holding. Of course! I was thirsty and fizzy water sucks! It got me talking to 3 British fans, who scored tickets for the game from someone they met at a bar! The sad thing is they had extra tickets that went unused… They entertained me for an hour on the train and 90 minutes in Mannheim—they got extra points for saying that everyone in the stadium thought the US got screwed by the refs on multiple occasions. I learned a lot about English football and they helped me narrow down my choices for which football club I’ll follow next year. J

Amusing British quote in reference to the Mexico/Angola game: “We’ve never seen so many Mexicans before. It was amazing… Was the border empty?” Wow. I didn’t know Europeans could make jokes like that!!

Tara’s English chant education: “Two World Wars and One World Cup” (to be used by English fans when playing Germany… or at any time to annoy Germans.)

Getting home at 8am and having a mild sunburn might suck, but this was definitely the best weekend I’ve had since I’ve been in Germany. Too bad I couldn’t put it all on here. J It might have beaten out DC too… But that’s not hard considering I’m a nerd.

Anyone up for South Africa in '10? And please, no comments on the hair. I know it was bad that day.

World Cup Random Thought: Nummer 1

As I sat here watching the England/Paraguay game, I began to wonder how the Germans fans would let English hooligans show them up on the noise factor. My conclusion? Only Budweiser is sold at the games because no German beers stepped up to take one for the team and make a cheap bid. I think the German fans were calm because they couldn't lower themselves to drink bad beer and therefore did not have enough alcohol to make them properly boisterous.

You may be asking why I'm at home instead of partying it up in Frankfurt with the hooligans that I'm so desperate to meet. Simple answer: the Army sent out a warning that there would be 30-50 THOUSAND English hooligans (presumably drunk) cruising the streets and that "clashes were likely to follow". I still was all about going (in fact, it may have encouraged me more), but apparently soldiers get barred from going. Ah, what a tease this weekend has been... I still have one trick up my sleeve, but I will reveal that at a later time just in case it falls through. :)

What will I be when I grow up?

Thanks, Amie. I wish this was actually true... I could use a good nap.

Finally

I took the plunge and bought a satellite decoder. I may not get any good American channels, but I do get Al Jazeera, TV Monde, and Die Erste! How thrilling. Actually there are a few channels in English: CNBC Europe, BBC World, CNN International and Sky News. I try to stick to BBC... American media aren't what they used to be. One day I may speak with a British accent as a joke. It's already been discussed with a coworker, but a dare has not been officially issued. Oh, and how could I forget MTV. It's fun watching Nick Lachey drop the bomb without it being bleeped. About 80% of the stuff on there is in English with German subtitles. The only American show that I've seen dubbed is American Dad. Yeah, that makes sense. You all know how much I hate MTV... it's really taken a lot to dumb myself down enough to watch it.

I also purchased my first Region 2/PAL DVDs for my region free DVD player. It's cheaper to buy from the Germans than tax free from the Americans. Fabulous. My purchases: der Soldat James Ryan (Saving Private Ryan) and Old School: Unzensiert (Old School: Unrated). Yes, I already have backup copies of these movies, but I'm a big fan of humor and irony. Plus it's funny to switch between German and English audio. I will leave this topic untouched so that you smartasses can go to town.

Plan for tomorrow: a trip to a free Toby Keith concert (if I can convince myself to miss bowling day!!)

No Stairway? Denied!

Okay, so I may have been a little ticked off when U2 came to DC on my birthday only to find out that I would have to spend 2 weeks in scenic Fort Jackson, South Carolina studying the ins and outs of Army financial management. It just got worse considering I had been asked to go to the concert when tickets were going for several hundred dollars on Ebay. (He may have been drunk, but I still considered it a legit offer.)

Similar situations keep popping up here. I got an offer to go to Paris this weekend. Naturally I'll probably be working late on Friday and already have plans for the weekend. I am convinced that I only get offers when another offer has already been extended. Keep in mind that I haven't done anything the last couple weekends (well, excluding the crazy bonfire and my pathetic attempt to act like I'm in college again). Just my luck. At least I'll get to see some football this weekend. It may be NFL Europe, but I'm sure there are occasionally some decent plays.

The ultimate slap to the face: the World Cup will be 20 miles away from me. Not only that, but England will be playing there and everyone knows of my passion to see real life hooligans (from a safe distance, of course.) Plus I like to operate under the assumption that I would meet a smart, well-mannered British hottie at the game, thus allowing me to quit working forever. Or at least quit working for awhile. I'd get bored. I swear the FIFA website is the most worthless bit of technology ever created. It teases me by saying there are tickets available only to be denied after several attempts. I don't even want to see the US play. They probably suck. I just want to hit up some England/Paraguay. There always seem to be tickets available for the Iran and Tunisia games. I suppose unless I want to see Iran (which has been all but banned by the Army - not that I'm that stupid anyway), I'll be watching this at home if I can manage to hook up a satellite decoder by then. Watching soccer in German can be nothing but fun. This rocks.

The Florida Gators aren't the only "in" gators this year...

Such is my luck. I left a DC area gator only to find another promptly upon my arrival to Deutschland. This gator hunt, however, has helped to further expand the gator definition as well as add other terms to the Tara lexicon.

Definitions to be explored in this blog: reptile, gator, cheetah, poisonous dart frog, jaguar – remember, this is a work in progress and is subject to change at any time without notice.

REPTILE/AMPHIBIAN: To keep it easy, we’ll call all men reptiles or amphibians. These terms are interchangeable and any specific species can be utilized depending on the characteristics of a specific male. (EXCEPTION: a certain individual would prefer to be addressed as da mule. We'll humor him.)

GATOR (old definition): Creepy stalker who creates reasons to track and/or hunt unsuspecting prey. (Author’s note: The prey was previously referred to as the wildebeest. This changed when the prey saw a picture and decided that wildebeests are ugly. Perhaps a cute cheetah, leopard, or something of that nature will be used in the future. SEE BELOW.) The gator often remains in the shadows while investigating the prey’s habitat (Example: staring at the prey’s empty cubicle for no apparent reason while she is gone for two weeks of training.) Prey remains clueless because she prefers to think that she has no gators.

GATOR (new definition): Overly enthusiastic, recently hatched prowler who bestows unwanted attention on the prey. The gator vocalizes his enjoyment of courting activities such as snout touching and backrubbing. Fortunately his feminine side prevents him from taking action on these desires. The prey of this gator has changed from clueless/naive and now assumes that all reptiles/amphibians are gators, thereby avoiding reptiles/amphibians altogether in order to evade additional awkwardness.

CHEETAH: New definition for the PREY. Cheetahs only become the prey when they are too lazy to do anything else (see picture above). The cheetah prefers to be the aggressor and can run away at high speeds from any gators (Example: a cheetah can fly down the autobahn at 100mph to leave the gator stranded at his swamphole.) Besides, what cheetah needs a gator when she has a rabbit around? (That last line is an inside joke. Do not attempt to get an explanation. There is none.)

POISONOUS DART FROG: This companion to the gator and (in this case) cheetah often finds himself making bad decisions when it comes to giving advice to the gator. This animal seems friendly enough but has enough venom to drop a monkey. The poisonous dart frog encourages the gator to stalk the prey despite the frequent requests of the cheetah to stop these activities. This does not in any way endear the poisonous dart frog to the cheetah and will likely lead to the poisonous dart frog becoming an “it” before too long.

JAGUAR: Close in relation to the cheetah, but not quite as cool. The jaguar is the close friend of the cheetah and often helps the cheetah “keep it real” when it comes to the gator. In the cheetah’s absence, the gator may find himself talking to the jaguar in order to get information about his prey. He will come to the jaguar as he “struggles” without the cheetah. The cheetah and jaguar have been known to throw the Sahara into upheaval by playing pranks on the lions and tigers. Thankfully speed is the ally of both the jaguar and cheetah and they have been able to escape (so far).

Bottom line: It might be wise to take the advice of the National Park Service: never get within 15 feet of the gator.

Further documentation: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/3903967.stm

Red! Red! Red!

Happy May Day/International Workers' Day! I post this worthless message in honor of my favorite communist friend, Laura, and my Union enthusiast cousin, whose name will go unmentioned because he's shy. You know who you are, big guy. Laura's not really a communist (at least I think) but it sure is fun to call her a pinko. I'm fairly confident that this commie talk is going to get me fired. Well, this or any of the chats I had on Army Instant Messenger today. You know who you are, troublemakers... The man is always watching.

For those that don't know, May 1st is Labor Day for the rest of the world. European workers went on strike to support a strike in Chicago back in the day. Of course the US can't celebrate this holiday with everyone else because it's a big communist/socialist holiday. Frankly I'm tempted to call Laura to see if she called in "sick" to support her comrades. I might have been tempted to do that had it not been a free day for me anyway. The Germans were off work again for the third holiday they've had since I got here two months ago. I love it. I'm jealous that I'm not off playing in the sun like them, but then again it's pretty sweet to get work done when it's quiet while still having time to be, um, less productive. :)

For my next blog: the greatest legit scam ever that allows me to lock in gas at $2.54 a gallon for quite awhile... Then again, maybe I'll keep that to myself to avoid the wrath.

Congratulations, Stephen Colbert

My salute to Christine

I'm not nearly as creative as Christine with online tributes. This is the best I can do until my coworkers teach me Italian, Turkish, Spanish, and/or German cuss words. I'm not going to say that these pictures reminded me of Christine, but I think she will appreciate them. Since she's the only person that still checks this blog, that's all that matters. :)


Ah, yes. When I want tea, I know I want PURE LUST. If this tea is pure lust, then wow am I disappointed. And who thinks of strawberry rhubarb as pure lust?

I'm pretty sure the Germans next to me in the store thought I was crazy when I burst into laughter when I saw this box. In one box you can try white and dark chocolate. Interesting... I'd also like to point out that the regular, larger Dickmanns are all dark chocolate. Are they trying to say something?

Springfield?

Yes, this is where I live. Don't be jealous. I think the best part of this picture is the WHA?! at the end. :)

Si

This weekend's adventure: a day trip to Nuremberg (or Nürnberg if you want to keep it authentic). Some of the highlights: I had someone tell me I speak the best kind of English because I'm from Illinois. No joke... the tour guide said he thought that was the most non-regional accent. Sweet... I also think I may have been asked how much I cost after being stranded outside of a sex store. It's hard to say because I don't speak that kind of German.

I witnessed the two people I was with display some of the behavior that may cause German to hate Americans. :) Examples:

German tourist: blah blah something not in English blah blah
Soldier 1: Si.
Soldier 2: Dude, remember? You're in Germany.

Soldier 1: Tara, how do you say two?
Tara: Zwei.
Soldier 1 (to ticket agent): Zwei tour thingie (crazy gestures).
Ticket agent: Um... we're full.

I wonder how this would go over in the States... and shouldn't it be schwarze Musik?


For my Lutheran friends...


This is as close to a cheerleading pose as you'll ever get from me. Frankly I can't believe I'm putting it on the internet. I'd have climbed the wall for real, but I'm a midget and my legs hurt after climbing a steep hill to get up to that freakin castle.


I like to think that this ivy was here back in the day for climbing. I got to the second floor before they made me stop.

F$&@*% Germans!

I spent most of Saturday pissed off at all Germans. The phrase of the day is the title of this post... Obviously without the mom censoring. In a nutshell: Saturday I had to find a new way to drive to Hanau because there's a super annoying stoplight (one of those lights that lets traffic go only one way because of construction). I was sick of waiting 10 minutes for a red light! Anyway... I'm approaching another small town and there's a car on my ass. I've been driving here for a month and I'm now fairly used to cramming my car into small places and having people ride my tail. This guy was close enough that it still freaked me out. Anyway... I brake twice and he about hit me both times so I go flying into this town. I see the flash from the speedcheck camera and look in my rearview mirror to see 4 Germans partying like it's New Years. Apparently these cameras only catch the first car that goes through. This would explain why I can't wait to get German plates on my car...

Obviously I was not pleased about this--my face was red for hours and I'm pretty sure my blood pressure was at unhealthy levels. I pick up my friend to go to Wiesbaden (which is about an hour away) because I need to return a piece of crap webcam ($90 wasted!!!) I get there to find out that there's a 14 day return policy and I couldn't have even returned it after it was opened anyway. Great. Next I go to get an elliptical machine only to find out I can't get it because the warehouse is closed for the day (which is about an hour before it was technically supposed to close...) Basically I got a $150 ticket, wasted gas, and (possibly) will have my license suspended for a month for nothing. Ah yes, I forgot to mention that... since I was going about twice the speed limit, I may get my license suspended. I'm already crafting excuses and will deny it happened. Hopefully the polizei don't read blogs. Maybe they won't be able to track me down or the ticket will get lost in the mail. Oooh, or maybe they let you get away with one ticket. Then I come down from the clouds and remember I'm in Germany: land of overcharging Americans and "shoot now, ask questions later" police. Whee!

On a happy note, my new baby: you know you want to visit me.

I just sold my soul to the devil...

I made my first trip to a German Super Walmart. Wow, was that crazy. I was pleasantly surprised, even though they did have Great Value products scattered throughout the store. I'm going to take a camera next time because I've already forgotten everything that we found funny. My bad.

Today's dilemma...

I'm trying to get pictures together to fill frames to display around my place. Question of the day (I know I'm going to get a lot of grief for this one): I have a picture of me with someone that I don't particularly like that much anymore. The problem is, I look really good in the picture. Do I still put it up? And no, I'm not going to say whose picture it is. I'm not that mean. Really, I'm not.

Weekend Update

Christine's been getting on me to update my blog so here it is. I don't really have anything exciting to report and I haven't seen any stupidity that deserves comments. I bowled badly this week, I spent a lot of money on stuff for my house, and had someone come over to bake some things in my kitchen leaving me the mess to clean up. Typical week.

Today was daylight savings time here so I'll be an extra hour ahead of the US for the next week. This means that I will only be able to IM/email people for 2 hours of my work day. This is not good. DST especially sucks when you're up until 5am and realize it's actually 6am already. Oops, my bad. I guess that's what I get for finally getting a life. :) Oh, and maybe next time remember to turn the alarm ON so you wake up before 1, ass.

I've realized that Germany's weather is everything I've been told. I was supposed to go wandering around Frankfurt with some peeps until we realized it was supposed to rain all day. I'm beginning to think we should have gone anyway since I may never get to see anything if I wait until the weather is decent. Here's the forecast for this week:

Tonight: Showers
Monday: Showers
Tuesday: Showers
Wednesday: Showers
Thursday: Showers
Friday: Showers
Saturday: Scattered Showers
Sunday: Showers

Check out weather.com if you don't believe me. :)

Upon further review, I don't like any pics I currently have of my house... but here's one of some horses in my front yard near the garage where Scarlett is chillin. SWEET.

Tara: a good joke 24/7 :)

Yesterday was the ultimate slam on Tara for being single day. It felt like Valentine’s Day all over again. As if I need constant reminders to point out the obvious. I had all of my household goods delivered (one month early!!) One of the movers and the quality control guy both commented on separate occasions that I needed to get married as my place was big enough to two. Thanks for making me feel better.

The next example was not exclusive to yesterday… but it still came up. In fact, I would say I get it every day. Whenever I meet a new person, they ask me what my husband does. The first response that comes to my mind: do you think I would go anywhere without wearing the huge engagement ring that I would require to get married? Trust me, you’d know if I was married because I’d be sporting a sweet rock 24/7. When I say I’m single, they ask what I did in the military. Apparently to be a female civilian working overseas requires marriage (females obviously can’t get jobs without spousal preference) or prior military service (because who else would be crazy enough to randomly move to another country… er, except me).

When I say I have neither a hubby nor retirement pay, I get the best looks of confusion. When they find out how old I am it gets even better. They assume I’m in my 30s because of my crazy ass decision to move here and my job position. It’s fabulous. I think I might start making up some sweet stories. Examples: my first 3 marriages didn’t work out, I was supposed to be a German mail order bride but it didn't work out, I’ve had my face lifted twice and lie about my age, etc.

My visit to the Berg

My first mini roadtrip took me to Heidelberg, which is where I had been hoping to move in the first place. :) I was there to see a battle of the bands, but also got to do some shopping and sightseeing. By sightseeing I mean I saw the castle from afar and moved on to the stores. Big shock: it was raining most of the day like it has been about 80% of the time I've been here. :)

Not that I didn't notice this before, but shopping help me truly realize that I need to drop about 25 pounds if I'm going to fit in with these mega skinny European chicks. We'll see if I have the motivation to make this happen. HA



I added this picture for Lisa and Amie, my token Catholic friends. The statue is of Catholics putting down some protestants years and years ago. I don't remember why, but that's probably not much of a surprise.

Dem lites r purdy

Germans don't mess around. Why only have yellow lights when preparing to stop? Why not throw a yellow in there so you can rev up to go? I think I like this place. :)

More fragmented random thoughts that aren't funny.

Wow, didn't realize I was going to be judged for saying I prefer the officers... :)

Did everyone have a happy Harry Potter Day yesterday? I'm sad to report that the PX only had the regular version. I'm sad I won't be able to see the deleted scenes, but I'm sure they'll be on the internet shortly. I should be more than happy with what I've got since it's not out in Germany for another month.

I picked up my car today. Naturally it started snowing as soon as I started to leave for the 50 mile trip back to Hanau. (When I say snow I mean flurries--nothing that would stop me from driving at the crazy speeds I'm about to describe.) I was appreciating Scarlett until we hopped on the autobahn and I started to wonder what I was thinking in wanting to drive here. I was following someone and would have been majorly lost had I not kept up. I think he forgot that I was following him. I don't have a cell phone yet (see paragraph below) so it could have been very very very very bad. It's definitely not something that will become habit for me, though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't going to be great to cruise at 80.

Observations I made about how to know you're going way too fast on the autobahn:
1. You're in the far left passing lane and you're speeding by all the other drivers who are also traveling at a crazy fast speed.
2. You're 10 MPH from topping off your speedometer.

Phones: They do phones much differently here than in the US. The phones are much more advanced, but calling is more expensive (not a shock, really). All incoming calls are free, but you pay for all outgoing calls. Calling cell phones is very expensive however you do it. Calling from one cell company to another costs about $.75/min so you'd better make sure you know your friends. Too many rules for me not to be confused. I have to decide if I want to get a 2-year contract (which there is no way to break) or prepaid (where I have to regulate how much I talk). We all know how hooked I was to my cell phone in the states. I didn't even have a landline, but I have to get one here for my DSL (which costs $200 to set up!) :) I feel as if I've lost my best friend. At least I can send cheap international text messages. :)

I'm also not feeling good about my chances of getting World Cup tickets... but I'm going to keep trying. Even people that live around here can't get them.

More shocking news: I might start working out with some peeps from work... things that aren't sports that I like to play... things like... STEP AEROBICS. What's wrong with me? I also bowl every week with a group of fun peeps. The Dude would be proud.

A hobo no longer...

Slowing but surely I’m getting caught up with this lovely blog (primarily because I know Kim is waiting for it). Today was a big day:

1) I found out that Scarlett has arrived in Wiesbaden and is ready for me to pick up! I just need to get insurance/temporary plates and a ride there and I’ll be set. Had I known she’d get here 10 days early, I would have been a little more on the ball.

2) I found a place to live and it’s awesome. It includes a lot of American stuff that doesn’t usually come with rentals like light fixtures and a full kitchen. It also has a satellite dish (once I get a decoder), a garage, and two bathrooms with a bath AND shower. The best part: it has 4 bedrooms (one for me, a closet, a guest room, and perhaps a study/den). That means everyone can come visit! Can you tell I’m excited?

Now that my stress has diminished for my car and housing, it’s time for my thoughts on why I will never find a good Army boy. Be prepared for some deep thinking… It’s already established that I’m a snob: meaning I will never go for anyone enlisted when I can get an officer. I’m the same way with beer: why drink Miller Light when Sam Adams is that much better. No contest. That knocks out approximately 90% of army right there. (All of my numbers are likely to be high: I’m trying to be optimistic here. Don’t rain on my parade.) That means for the rest of this discussion we’ll be working off a base number of 10%.

Of this percentage, let’s figure that a bunch of them are not in my age bracket. We’ll be conservative and say 4%. Apparently at this point my standards aren’t too strict as far as age goes. Anyways, we’re down to 6%. Of this, at least half are likely to already be married. Down to 3%.

Part of the problem with trying to find an officer is they are about 88.7% more likely to be a complete ass. (I was going to throw some standard deviations in there, but to be honest I’m a little tired today.) The few that I’ve seen around here (married, fortunately part of the formula that’s already gone): dicks. The odds of me finding an officer who doesn’t take himself too seriously: down to about .34% and I’ll bet he’s in Iraq.

These findings are not based on an actual, legitimate study. Margin of error +/- 8%.

Is it really going to be that hard to find a good drinking buddy or two? I mean honestly... Though apparently the specialists love me. Can we say GATOR alert? :)

Snow!!

I wish I knew where to ski around here because it's snowing like crazy! I was in German Headstart this week and I've already been asked twice if this is my playground in the pic below. :) No, it's not--but I might play on it if I get bored enough this weekend. Right now my only plans involve seeing how long it takes me to polish off a bag of Reese's Pieces. I love the snow... until I remember that I have to walk to get anywhere until I get my car next week. Everyone seems to think it's already here, but the base where I need to pick it up closed at 10am this morning because of the snow. Just my luck. :)


More recent news: Today I passed my driver's test on the first try so I'm now an officially licensed driver (once I have a car, of course). Clear the road peeps, it's time to roll... :) I need to find a place that has curling.

German Beer: Nectar of the Gods

I had my first German beer at lunch today. I don’t think I’ll require water anymore, thank you very much.

It will come as no surprise to most of you that 45 minutes of shopping downtown resulted in the purchase of a new pair of snowpants and several chocolate bars. I would have dropped another 200 euros had I had time to do more than window-shopping at the department store. I am going to get into soooooo much trouble down there. I haven’t even seen Ikea yet! Sad news: I’ve heard there’s a Super Walmart down the street from Ikea. I thought I was going to get away from that sort of thing, ick.

Just a little advice for you kiddies out there: it’s not a good idea to try to learn two languages at once. Obviously I’m trying to learn some German, but I thought it would be fun to brush up on my French. What can I say: reading Harry Potter À L’École Des Sorciers is a very entertaining way to practice French. English doesn’t have cool words like Soufpouffle to amuse me. Pretty soon I think I might be speaking my own little language. I think I’ll call is Frengleutsch or Engdeucais.

Curling – this is quite possibly my favorite sport now. Here is a brief synopsis for those who aren’t familiar with it: you shove a rock down a sheet of ice aiming to be the closest to a target while using little brooms to guide the rock’s speed. Best. Sport. Ever. Not really, but it’s funny to watch guys sliding down ice chasing after a rock with some brooms. Plus, let’s face it: it’s probably the easiest sport to get onto the US Olympic team. If I get three volunteers, we’ll go ahead and try to make it to Vancouver. HA.

The army boy/office discussion will have to wait until another day. I'm tired from all this walking and schnitzel. :)

Welcome to Germany...

My first thoughts on arriving in Germany (remember, I was sleep deprived at the time): Are those people smoking in the airport!? And did that dog just pee right in front of the baggage claim?!

WARNING: These paragraphs are in no way tied together. Read at your own literary peril.

In response to certain other blogs: no, I'm not dead. I just haven'’t had a chance to crank out a quality blog since my arrival in Germany. Who knew they had Internet here? j/k (Author's note: this remark was written before I was unable to get on the web for two days. Ah, the irony.) I knew that once the Olympics were over I'd have plenty of time to dedicate to blogging, so why peak too soon? I'm sure the European Olympics experience will make it into a blog if I don’t get too lazy. It's not like I have a lot going on at the moment. No car, possessions, friends, or cell phone make Tara a lame girl! (But only briefly until I get my car and hooker out a lil bit.) :)

Have I mentioned how much I miss Scarlett? Not that I would be able to drive her anyway. I'm currently not licensed to operate a motorized vehicle here. It'’s probably better that way. I can't wait until I can tell my mom that I hit 125 on the autobahn. When she wakes up from passing out, I will then inform her that it'’s 125 kph, which is only around 75 mph. I'’m sure that's going to be a good joke. One that I will use at least 15 times more than is reasonable.

Lisa and Christine: I sincerely apologize for my lack of memory. Your list of stupid things that you relate to me is truly impressive. I don’t think I could come up with such an accurate list. I’ll go ahead and blame the alcohol. (Not that I‚’ve ever had any of that, Mom.) I would, however, love to elaborate on each of your examples. I feel that many of them deserve a rebuttal from me, but let‚’s face it: I‚’m too lazy and most of those stories should not be revealed to the public (like what I did my last night in the States, thank you Trisha.) :)

I‚’ve been asked four times already if I know what my last name means in German. Despite what Lisa‚ may tell you, it‚’s not ‚‘whore‚’. I had thought cabbage was accurate enough until someone gave me the real description. I have real pride in my Wirsing ancestors who thought it was a good idea to name themselves after ‚“a dish of cabbage from Bavaria that looks like grass clippings and tastes like shit‚” when THEY COULD HAVE MADE UP ANYTHING WHEN THEY HOPPED OFF THE BOAT!! Wha?! But really I‚’ve heard it‚’s a delicacy in Bavaria. This is just like someone leaving Alabama with the name Grits. Maybe getting married isn‚’t a bad idea just to change my name. It‚’s just a thought. ;) Or I could have my name legally changed to Maxine 'Max' Power.

I don’t really feel like I‚’ve left… Perhaps it‚’s all the Americans running around or the lack of a tourist passport. I‚’m not quite sure. And if I don‚’t get more comments on this post than the Harry Potter blog, I‚’m quitting altogether. :)

On the next Tara Takes Europe, I‚’ll discuss my office (and its lack of flair), curling, and theories on why I‚’ll never be able to catch a good army boy.

The Man in Action!

Good news: I got my official passport! Of course this was at 2:30 on the last working day before I leave, but that's cool. It made it. (Again I don't think my sarcasm is evident online.) Bad news: the State Department lost my personal passport. They mailed in to one of four addresses, but they can't tell me which one. They don't have a tracking system and they use a different address each time. I love the consistency. That makes me feel good about my odds of getting it eventually. That's okay though. I really look forward to the judging that will happen anytime I use my gov passport with any foreigners. You know they love us. They just hide it deep down inside. :)

I'm a hobo!

It's official now: I am a hobo. All of my stuff is on a boat (I hope). All I have is a bunch of clothes and a laptop for the next month... when I get more clothes and some books. Yippee.

Sad news: They couldn't ship my skis with my unattended baggage, so I won't get them for two months. Ski season will be sadly short this year.

Funny/majorly depressing news: Only I would find this funny because it verifies every stereotype of the government. I called the Pentagon Passport Office on Monday to check on the status of my official passport only to be told that they didn't have it because I need to fill out the request form again. (Yes, one of the 21,987,234 government forms.) Apparently someone had written (rather than typed) the block that said DESTINATION. Wha? It took 4 weeks to realize this? Were they planning on telling me there was a problem or did they think I have mindreading skillz? Good thing I was calling every 2 days because I'm a nutcase. Of course they still can't guarantee that they will have my passport since I leave in 5 days. But that's okay. I don't need to tell Germany I won't be coming. I'm sure they won't mind if I'm a few days late. I also don't need to change my plane ticket. These things are easy. It actually would be pretty easy to change since not everyone is fortunate enough to get the middle seat. I know that seat is coveted by many and will be snatched back quickly.

Random rant done. Blame it on lack of sleep. Don't trust Lisa around any males.

Scarlett Update

I got all excited when I realized I could track Scarlett's transatlantic cruise. Her current location: "the ocean." Thanks for narrowing that down for me, bitches.

Bon Voyage, Scarlett

As of noon on Friday the move became legit. Scarlett boarded the ship for her transatlantic cruise and I'll owe the Man lots of money if I change my mind now. We all know that's not going to happen. Here's a picture of me reassuring her that everything would be okay. :) What you can't see here is the fact that it's in the 60s at 9am.



This next picture shows a lovely gas pump in Spiceville, Indiana. If you could get a closeup, you would notice that the credit card slot (like everything else) is almost iced over. It almost stole my credit card, but it all worked out in the end. Remind me again why I'm moving somewhere with 9 months of winter? :) I think the people of Spiceville thought I was taking pictures for terrorist purposes. I hate to tell them that small town Indiana isn't really a big target. I'll send them a card to let them know.

T-Wirs Poll #1

Work is getting ridiculous. Tomorrow I'm going to take some duct tape to block off my cube so people stop effin bothering me. How am I supposed to do my rounds? I've got peeps that need to be harassed. Aren't people supposed to be slackers once they know they will be leaving for another job?

I have this completely backwards apparently, but at least it's helping the T-Temper come out. I almost bitchslapped the secretary today. (Oooooh, another good use for the duct tape!!) In fact, I think there may be a pool in my division to see when I'm going to do it. People linger around my desk when she's around with those eager eyes. Rest assured, friends. That hooker will be victim to my wit and sarcasm before I roll out. It's just a matter of how real I want to make it. I don't want to make her go too far over the edge or she'll make a formal complaint about me and may get more free time off work. If there's one thing she's good at, it's using the system. (Author's note: This is not efficient use of sticking it to the man. Laziness should never be rewarded, even if it means screwing over the man.)

Poll question of the day: Should I let this hooker have it? Or should I stay the nice, fake Tara that has maintained the imagine of subtle bitchiness? You decide.

How's that for truthiness?

Die Tür ist aus Suppe gemacht.

My own personal "oh shit" meter: http://timeanddate.com/counters/customcounter.html?day=20&month=02&year=2006&hour=18&min=00

I found out earlier this week that my credit union doesn't have my title... meaning that US Customs could impound my vehicle and prevent me from shipping it. I find this highly amusing. It's not like I'm moving in 23 days or anything. And why is it that I've never had as much to do at work as I have over the last two weeks? Hypothetically I should be out with friends at happy hour causing trouble, not working until 6. Oh wait, I don't have fun anymore and that's part of why I'm leaving. :)

Another piece of irony: http://www.estripes.com/article.asp?section=104&article=34588 Let's just hope my future husband isn't one of the 7200. I'm glad the unit I'll be supporting isn't in that list either. :) "Welcome to Germany, Tara. You'll be moving back in 8 months." I'd better not joke about that because I could totally see that happening to me.

Anxiety attacks: 0
Mini-anxiety attacks: 1

Hooligans!

I got a little bored over the weekend. Rather than plan my move, I decided to look up the World Cup 06 schedule. England plays in Frankfurt on June 10th. This means that I might be able to encounter some real-life hooligans! I will be sure to frequent the bars for the week before and after in the hopes that I'm able to start some trouble with people that do that for a living. :) Although I do my best to cultivate these skills on a daily basis, there is always room for improvement...

If I'm Eurotrash...

then Amie is an Ameriskank. So there.

There is a God: http://www.ikea.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/IkeaNearYouView?storeId=5&langId=-3&catalogId=10103&StoreName=hanau

The best $4.63 I've ever spent

It's not quite as cool at the Lord Voldemort returns messenger bag, but I think it's fun...

Your Mom goes to Hogwarts

Those prefects sure know how to live when it comes to bath time. Countless faucets spewing all sorts of mysteriously colored liquids, including but not limited to scented bubble baths, artesian spring water and bleach, judging by Harry’s complete lack of skin pigmentation. But here’s what really got us. You may not know this, but the actress who plays Moaning Myrtle is forty. Now we defy you to watch that scene again without getting creeped out.

Apparently the HP folks learned from the failed merchandising of the recent Star Wars films. Tara attempted to locate some fun HP stuff as an act of goodwill for her recent visit to Lisa’s pad. An hour in Target ended with nothing except some chocolate and bug gum, both completely unrelated to HP. Where will Tara get her blue Beauxbatons tracksuit? Will Lisa ever locate a Hogwarts hoodie? These questions will never be answered.

Both authors also feel confident in their ability to fire off a biting insult to the average British citizen should the need arise. Nothing puts fear into the heart of your enemies like a good “You stink!” or an angry “Off to bed with you!” Thankfully, Moody is around to properly school young Hogwarts students about the proper way to harass others. It’s nice to see someone else who shares our belief that transfiguration, rather than communication, is the best way to deal with any problems one may encounter. Good thing this movie taught us the correlation between ferrets and crotches in the Hogwarts establishment that may otherwise have gone unnoticed.

Here’s what you need to succeed at the second task: a kick-ass calf wand holster and some flora phlegm. Consider yourself warned: even that won’t ward off the creepy shark-tailed merpeople. This sentiment may stem from a too-early viewing of Jaws that left Lisa permanently scarred. But those are her issues… maybe Tara should finish up this paragraph. Speaking of the merpeople, we’re pretty sure that Ariel didn’t look like that. If she did, becoming a human was the best choice she ever made. Other issues with this task come from Harry’s failure to recall that he is a wizard until after the task was officially over. Could he not have used his blast-out-of-the-water spell at the beginning of the task rather than waiting until he was about to be drowned by the MIB underwater alien babies? Honestly, Harry. You could have won that task. What would Pappy Potter have done? He would have acted like a wizard, this much we assure you. He also would have tapped into the wizard cappuccino machine sitting on the viewing platform. Any respectable wizard would have.

And after several more scenes about which we can’t think of anything snarky to say, we come to the final task. The Hogwarts students gather round to watch the Champions enter the labyrinth and then sit there, essentially blind to any goings-on of the task for however many hours it takes for someone to find a Triwizard cup in several square miles of hedge maze. Sounds like a blast- where can we buy tickets? At least they’ve got the bizarro-wizard instruments to keep them entertained. Geez, and we thought regular baritones were bad.

Dumbledore gathers the Champions around him to give them some mysterious and basically unhelpful words of pseudo-wisdom: “In the maze, you'll find no dragons or creatures of the deep. Instead you'll find something much more challenging: A waning CGI budget.” Or something to that effect. Then, they enter the last task: Attack of the Killer Shrubbery. Most of us have had a horrifying experience or two involving shrubbery. Whether it be an unfortunate incident involving excessive mixing of certain beverages with a Metro ride gone horribly wrong or a childhood game of hide and seek ending with a terrifyingly translucent spider crawling menacingly towards you, shrubs are something we can all unite against. At least we can be safe in the knowledge that we have never had hedges that would attack with little to no warning. Simple blessings. It could be hoped that a tournament reliably known to end in the gruesome death of at least one of its participants would have a bigger final challenge than restless shrubbery and the occasional errant vine. Gone are all the daunting creatures that filled the book-maze; they’ve been omitted in favor of the Stiff Wind of Bad Sportsmanship.

So Harry and Cedric grab the cup together, blah blah transported to a cemetery blah. And while Lisa did not take Tara up on her twenty dollar bet to stand up and shout this to the masses in the theater, we will here:

CEDRIC IS IMMEDIATELY AK’D BY WORMTAIL.

Sorry, Ced. Then it’s time for Cooking with Pettigrew: a dash of your estranged father’s femur, a pinch of your lackey’s entire right hand, a tablespoon of your arch nemesis’ blood and baby, you got a stew goin’. Creepy giant naked fetus stew. BAM! Lord Voldemort has returned with less of a nose than Michael Jackson, and he’s super pissed about his terrible manicure and his lack of flip-flops. This calls for an evil class reunion: the still-loyal Deatheaters zoom in from parts unknown and prepare to rock it old school, but not until after Voldy rips off their hoodies and Mardi-Gras masks and makes them cry like little girls. That man is the master of the “your mother” joke genre. Perhaps Malfoy should invest in some Deatheater static cling spray- he definitely had some frizzies when his hood came off.

Voldy then turns his attention and his insults to Harry, who promptly hides behind a gravestone before eventually facing him in a combination magical laser light show and cage match to the death. Lisa sat a bit close to the screen due to a misunderestimation of travel time, and the sudsy magic that flowed freely from their wands was so bright her eyes were watering. Were we ever involved in such a duel, we would do well to remember sunglasses, is what we’re saying here. The tears of a sensitive-eyed individual are not very intimidating.

Now, we aren’t going to ruin the ending of the movie for you. Maybe Harry Potter dies in the end of the movie based on the fourth book of a series of seven books, all of which are named after him. We’re in no position to ruin that for you. Go out and enjoy the movie while it’s still in theaters- God knows we did.

Mischief managed.

Another great day of shopping...

Little did I know that going shopping today would be the best thing I've done in awhile. The day started out with nice little visit to Hot Topic. I was so tempted to get the Voldemort Returns messenger bag... but that was only because it included a detachable flashlight and ipod holder. Don't believe me?

Click here (I will save my purchase for another post when I have photo documentation.): http://www.hottopic.com/store/product.asp?LS=0&M=750727323&ITEM=267967

2 hours and many meaningless purchases later, I arrived at Ikea. I love this place--see evidence below. I can't wait to deck out my place in cute matching furniture. The question now is whether I should buy it here for more money or buy it cheaper in Germany with no way to get it home... Hmmmm. An unnamed source told me to have some cute soldier help me there, but I know I'm not that lucky. :)

Isn't it great that I'm wasting space on the internet again? Sorry for my brief hiatus from blogging. I was dedicating my time to the Lisa-Tara blog that no one is reading... and if they are, they're too scared to comment. :) Welcome back to Blogtown, Bloggy McBloggerton!

A touching story....

This story is the result of what happens when Lisa and I are allowed to utilize our creative talents... Her mom learned the hard way that we are incapable of doing something normal (like building a prepackaged ginerbread house) without changing it to suit our twisted personalities. This was before the HP Joint Blog was published, so I suppose we'll let it go.

This story starts out in jail as many good stories do. This will not be one of those, though mentioning the Pen can’t hurt. Our hero in orange (named Esmereldo), now lying dead on the roof of this fair Gingerbrothel, simply wanted to meet his "special" friend. We'll call her Trisha for the purposes of this story. Apparently 15 minutes of Trisha's lovin' would be worth a jailbreak and a gas station hold-up to this young man. Even in death his fingers clutch the sweet green gumdrops, er, money that would never be used as originally intended.

Upon arriving at Trisha's place of business, he found her in the passionate embrace of some poor shmuck who promptly found himself the victim of Esmereldo's most recent felony. All that remains of him now is the sweet icing of his chalk outline and the yellow sweethearts of police tape. Mr. Popo (pissed off police officer, for those that doesn’t know--just look at the anger in his eyes) killed Esmereldo as he attempted to escape down the roof of Trisha’s sweet lair o’ love. All Trisha can do now is stand behind Mr. Popo and wonder about what she would have done with the $40 she would have scored off two hits in one day. She’ll forever regret not collecting the cash up front. Just think of what could have been…

Memories

I forgot how funny this quiz was... You could even call it the first joint Lisa-Tara effort. You know you want to take it. Do it. I dare you.

http://quizilla.com/users/Purplmno4/quizzes/Which%20Valposer%20Are%20You?

More ID photo fun...

No ID photo will ever compare to my Virginia driver's license. My picture is a classic that I hope to keep for years to come. I'm even going to bow to the Virginia tax gods to keep that license for when I come back. The reason for this rant: Is it bad to have a passport photo where I look strung out? I can't wait until I have my bags hand searched because of the quality of these photos. I'll just have to pray that they let me by since it will be my official "Man" passport.

German phrase(s) of the day: Die Tür ist aus Suppe gemacht. (Quickly followed by: Um... Ich spreche Deutsch nicht.)

Since I've brought up foreign languages... what's up with this?

He Who Must Not Be Named (19 letters/6 words) vs.
Er, dessen Name nicht genannt werden darf (34 words/7 words) vs.
Celui-Dont-Le-Nom-Ne-Doit-Pas-Être-Prononcé (35 letters/9 words)

WTF mate? Those crazy continental Europeans just doubled-up Voldy! If this is a war, I’m sure we can make the name longer. Seriously. I’ve got spare time. (Remember, I say these things because I love.)

Harry Potter and the Never-Ending Blog: Pappy...er, Partie Deux

A week has passed since the first installment of Tara and Lisa's wisdom. It's good to see all the hard work inspired two comments, a full half of which were posted by the authors themselves. Our dedication to ourselves is astounding. Thank you, Lisa, for your insight.

It’s a shame we couldn’t have seen the other Champions in the first task, but we accept that this didn’t happen in the book and based on our previous nitpicking, this wish would make us complete hypocrites. No one wants that. We waited in the tent with Harry, and that’s fine. We got to see the trunks of ‘Hogwarts Field Supplies,’ which should be available for purchase at any upscale outdoor sporting goods retailer. When opened, they reveal a small placard that reads “Your damn wand, because you’re a wizard, you idiot.” The tent also held beds for the sleepy Champions to rest a bit before their task. A little nap before you face your dragon. “I’m just gonna take a nap while you guys tackle the dragons. Someone set an alarm for me, ‘kay? I don’t want to sleep through my task. Good talk- I’ll see you out there.”

Maybe we don’t have the flair for the dramatic timing that Mr. Potter does, but we’d be Accio Firebolt-ing it as soon as we set foot into that rock quarry, especially knowing that the broom was going to take the scenic route to get to us. And to hell with the broom anyway- why not Accio the egg and be done with it? Unless you think the egg had charms on it to prevent such actions, in which case congratulations, you have officially over-thought the first task.

Once the Firebolt decides to arrive, though, we must commend Harry on flying right through the professors’ tent. That was an awesome dick move apropos of nothing. And one would think that the spectators would be mildly curious as to what Harry was doing after the dragon broke its chain and chased him out onto campus. You’d be wrong. Not even a magically conjured Jumbo-tron to let them know if their classmate has been charbroiled. The safety measures discussed in the book were obviously eschewed in favor of rooftop tension- and Harry doesn’t even get a spotter. These Triwizard organizers aren’t screwing around with the death and the peril. Not even the Hogwarts roof shingles or random stone aqueducts were safe. “Welcome to the Triwizard Tournament! Our first task will be sponsored by the Wizarding Roofing and Masonry Union Local #142.”

After the first task, Harry has a huge cut on his face, which we later see is being held closed by (presumably) mystical, magical butterfly bandages. You’d think they’d have a spell for that. Speaking of things they should have spells for, several times during the movie I was tempted to raise an imaginary wand and shout ORTHODONTIUM! at a set of particularly British teeth. And Karkarov… Remind us not to sign up for the Azkaban Dental Plan. EVER.

The Harry Potter series is known as a set of books that are appropriate for both children and adults. If this is the case, why must all readers in their twenties be disenfranchised by the obvious lack of any twenty-ish characters in this movie? Two opportunities were usurped by the moviemakers’ attempt to cut down on time as well as their obvious lack of nerdiness concerning book details.

Example one: Ron’s brother, Charlie, is cut out of the illicit dragon-viewing scene. Many may have wondered what Charlie would look like. Unfortunately, he looked like he’d cost too much to have in the movie, so we’ll never know. He is described as being good-looking in the book, so why deny the Gen X crowd a little eye candy? Thanks a bunch. (Author’s note: This is particularly disturbing to Lisa, who likes the occasional redhead. Other Author’s note: That’s a lie and you know it, you dirty bitch.)

Example two: It’s a common misconception that ghosts don’t age. This is clearly not the case in HP world. When we see Harry’s parents, they are somehow the same age as their living classmates despite the fact that they have been dead for going on thirteen years. Oops, another way to cut out some 25 year olds.

This change may not have been as noticeable had the actor chosen to play James/Pappy not been such a complete nerd. (GLOSSARY TERM: Pappy Potter – Affectionate term used to refer to Harry’s deceased father/pappy, James Potter. Phrase coined following the unanswered question, “Whatever happened to Harry’s grandparents?”) The badass Pappy Potter of the books should not appear onscreen looking like a forty year-old accountant whose most significant accomplishment in life is his remarkably extensive sweater vest collection. He doesn’t look like someone who would stick it to the man, as Pappy frequently did. (Author’s note: This is especially distressing to Tara, who enjoys a good case of crazy-hair and sports an unhealthy obsession with what she insists on calling “sticking it to the man.” We’re not sure what “it” is, and we don't care to find out. Other Author’s note: There’s nothing wrong with sticking it to the man, as he’s out to keep us all down. And at least I don’t dig on the redheads, ass.)

Snape beating the hell out of the backs of Ron and Harry’s heads? Best scene in the movie. Also, kudos to Fred and George on getting some acting lessons. Not cringing after every line they speak is definitely an improvement.

We loved how anyone at the ball with any hint of some sort of foreign nationality to them shopped at Ethnicities R Us for their dresses. And as Harry and Parvati walked in, she was waving around at her adoring public like she had just been crowned Miss Hogwarts 2005. Keep it in your sari, princess. You’re a last resort. And while everyone else was hitting up the Stereotype Stripmall for his or her Ball couture, Ron did his shopping in Elton John’s trashcan. You’d think Hermione could’ve helped him out with a little DE-LACE-IA! and a couple blasts of SARTORIAL ADJUST-IUM! Then maybe his tuxedo-dress could’ve been as pretty as Harry’s. Geez, Hermione. Quit bein’ such a bitch. Surely Mrs. Weasley would have a book on this matter. Hell, even a pair of scissors would’ve helped.

The wizard band and their Muppet-skin outfits were apparently good enough in the wizarding world to inspire a midget mosh pit, which is always a good time. But honestly? Their lyrics were trite and the singing was a little bit pitchy, dawg. Ha- kidding. Midget mosh pit equals an automatic A+.

And finally, hooray for Neville “I Could Have Danced All Night” Longbottom for finally getting one day in his life where no one’s telling him how useless he is… or how his parents are insane gum wrapper collectors… or how bad his teeth are… and wow, we hope this kid never goes on the internet and Googles himself. Sorry, Nev. But really, way to go on the dancing.

In the final installment: water and nudity in varying degrees of creepiness, angry shrubberies, the ferocity of British verbal dueling, and reasons not to grab pretty, shiny objects

Remember kids...

I only make fun of movies I like. Our HP blog is simply a few observations from some extremely nerdy, detail-oriented and bored people. :)

Merlin's Beard! The Long Awaited Tara and Lisa and the Goblet of Fire Blog: Part One

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. 154 minutes, rated PG-13 for sequences of fantasy violence, frightening images, Ron saying "piss off," giant sexuality and creepy fetal nudity. Opens November 18th, 2005 so yes, this did take us over a month to complete. Shut up, we’re very busy and important.

A word to the wise – if you’re, hypothetically, debating in the car if you should wear your Gryffindor scarf into the theater, and some guy walks past you in an unruly black wig and round spectacles, you can rest assured that your scarf will not mark you for mockery. You are among friends. However, if you wear sorting hats AND bring books to read, some guy working for a newspaper will photograph you, and I will hate you for outdoing me.

Harry Potter movies are also excellent for eighteen flavors of Mom vs. Mom seat hostility. In some perversion of the natural instinct to protect one’s young we can observe the fierce instinct to get ones bratlings the best theater seats possible, even if it be at the expense of ones own senses of propriety and human dignity. Hilarious, really. Unless you get in the middle of such an encounter- it’s best to stay an uninvolved observer in these cases. Get there early and set up a blind of Goober boxes and popcorn bags so as not to disturb the delicate balance of nature.

Any movie that is based on a book is bound to be plagued by our arch nemesis: the Lecturing Scholar. These individuals can vary in age, volume and veracity; a single scholar can ruin a movie, and there is currently no screening process to weed them out. Under the guise of either helping out or showing off, they feel the need to name each character and explain in detail his or her importance to the plot, how the cast actor or actress differs from the scholar’s own mental image of him or her, and any memorable quotes from the book they can recall. As there are usually no outward physical symptoms of this condition, avoiding them during the seating process can be difficult: they do not reveal themselves until the theater is dark and the opening credits are rolling. The only remedy for an L.S. is the Anonymous Angry Shhh or, failing that, the Half Head Turn and Peripheral Vision Glare. Advanced individuals may feel comfortable combining these two techniques into an exceptionally effective silencing method, but your average moviegoer should practice at home before attempting this in public. It’s best to silence the L.S. rapidly and immediately lest he or she fall under the impression that anyone is interested in their undoubtedly encyclopedic knowledge of “who Nagini is.” Thanks for the tip- we read the books too. But we have the sense to keep our conspiracy theories to ourselves until we can elaborate on our blogs.

What conspiracy theories, you ask, even if you didn’t? Tara, for one, wants to know what’s up with the conspiracy against women in this movie. Here’s a probable conversation between author J.K. Rowling and GoF director Mike Newell.

MN: We need to cut out some time. Let’s lose Momma Weas, Cedric’s mom and Mrs. Crouch. While we’re at it, let’s make Moaning Myrtle and Rita Skitter creepy, creepy pedophiles.

JKR: That sounds fine, but don’t destroy too many female characters, because I did that a lil bit already. I made Fleur the most worthless champion. Harry’s mom is only in GoF because I needed someone to play the secretary announcing the arrival of Pappy Potter. Oh, and don’t forget that Nagini, the evil snake, is female.

MN and JKR slap each other five and call it a day.

One thing from the book that was (sort of) left in the movie was the Quidditch World Cup. If you don’t know what Quidditch is, we’re not exactly clear why you’re reading any of this. It’s only gonna be down the steep, slippery slope of nerd-dom from here on out. Some viewers were freaked by the Sonorus-ication of Fudge (see what we mean with the nerd?) while others were freaked by Vertigo Stadium, which hosted what little we saw of the QWC. They cut out most of the Quidditch for Ron’s recitation of ‘How Do I Love Thee, Krum? Let Me Count The Ways.’ Some contributors to this blog think that Ron is worthless. These individuals nearly wet their pants at the line “Ron Weasley, Harry Potter’s stupid friend,” and felt that it summed up their attitude perfectly. Others just kind of laugh and try to reiterate that book-Ron is really quite humorous and that also that he’s a fast runner. So Ron’s pretty much a mixed bag.

Some aspects come with an explanation for why they were cut, while others were added for no discernible reason. Case in point: the ceiling freak-out when Moody entered. Elements of Harry Potter movies should not confuse twenty four-year-olds. Also, how did young Barty Crouch Jr. know all the magic that Moody, an experienced auror, would know? Perhaps as a boy he held some sort of internship with The Man, or else was enrolled in some sort of fast track to the Upper Echelons of Ultimate Evil grooming program. The world may never know, or even wonder about it too much. Oh, and speaking of grooming- Crouch? The Hitler ‘stache went out for a reason. Please shave accordingly. At least we can be grateful that Sporadic Evil Snake Tongue is not a heritable trait. Unfortunately, his Chicklet front teeth à la Mr. Wilson in Dennis the Menace would be passed on to the next generation – and yes, feel free to marvel at the depth of my cultural allusions. Inexplicable random creepiness in lieu of actual story events: curious call, filmmakers.

By cutting straight to the QWC, we also miss out on our yearly Dursley fix. And in this book, that means no embarrassingly over-stamped letter, no busting of the wall in front of the fireplace, and no twins slipping Dudders the infamous toffee. In short, no magical bitchslap of the Dursleys at all, unfortunately. Since they didn’t have to pay the Dursley actors this year, you’d think they could’ve splurged and bought Dumbledore more than one effin’ robe for the entire movie. Surely his Muggle equivalent would have his own clothing line. Dumbledore’s Duds. Dumbledresses. “D.” Albie-D would definitely have been invited to many a friendly game of Butterbeer Beirut. His pimpin’ dress did nothing to cover the Butterbeer belly that was obviously cultivated with constant dedication to the art of the drink. The question remains: Butterbeer or Firewhiskey? One could guess that it depends on which choice could give his nail beds the creepy pallor of recent death they seemed to have. However, don’t ask Dumbledore about the estimated one billion rings he wore throughout the movie. He doesn’t like talking about his flair.

Hermione stated that the whole purpose of the Triwizard Tournament was to improve international magical cooperation. Not going to lie here: it’s a little difficult to take visiting schools seriously when their students either flounce around exhaling butterflies à la American Beauty or stomp around doing a magical dance with sparking pimpsticks. When did we have time to learn that, boys? Sample Durmstrang schedule: 8:00 - Charms; 10:00 - Potions; 1:30 - Tumbling and Dance.

Question: Why were the eventual champions not involved in the ShowOff-tacular designed to astound and amaze the students of Hogwarts? Answer: Dancing like a circus monkey does not an angry champion make. And Fleur didn’t want to wrinkle her satin whore outfit. ‘Nuff said.

In the next installment: HP goes mano a dragon, we cover some spells that should have been, expose some GenX disenfranchisement and play a little Dance Dance Revolution – Wizard Edition.