25 May 2011

I want a raft.


As if we needed further proof that the universe hates me, a (new) Icelandic volcano has decided to royally screw up air travel across parts of western Europe, mainly, England and Germany.  Joyous, joyous occasion.  My host mom says that this is a good omen, because the last au pair they had (that they loved) arrived a day after the airports reopened after the first Iceland volcano. I say, control your stupid magma already.  Meanwhile, scientists are busy telling CNN that this eruption won't be nearly as bad as last year's.  However, scientists also once tried to cure malaria, and ended up inventing the color mauve instead, a discovery which, in some circles, is known as an "epic fail."

Dear Iceland,

I have not suffered, bled, and cried though an entire year of "where are my bizkits," "can I get some more scrimps," and "stop leaning over my food, homie," only to be fucked over at the last minute by your goddamned volcanoes that can't keep their goddamned volcanic enthusiasm to themselves.  If you mess up my flight, I will personally come over there and shoot every single one of your polar bears, in the face.

Love, 
Tina


16 May 2011

Pilot, Part the Second!

Aaaand, the blog is back!  Look, I even added a banner!  And a "most popular" sidebar, which informed me that writing about Portugal vs Deutschland was somehow more popular than when I accidentally told 15 year olds that I would prostitute myself out to them for a paltry fee.  Who knew? 

Welcome back people who have read my nonsense before, and hello, everyone else!  If you are new to my blog-o-madness, I apologize in advance, and please be warned that my speech is peppered with such phrases as "sons-of-bitches," "megasuper whores of Babylon," and the like.  I like to pretend that I don't use these words in my brain, but I do, and I find that whatever censor there is between my brain and my mouth is rendered useless by the act of typing.  So if your constitution can't handle Babylonian whores, consider getting the low-down on my life verbally from someone who does not view the random stringing together of words to create new and entertaining curses as a hobby.    

So, the family has been found, the international driving permit is in my drawer, and the visa achieved with only mild entertainment (read: a security guard happily informing me that it was a-okay if I was carrying a bomb in my bookbag, so long as I was leaving the consulate, not coming in.  Thank you, security guard, that makes perfect sense).  Now I just need to jump through some hoops known as the Portuguese Consulate.  We're working on getting me EU citizenship, but there is a lot of arbitrary paperwork.  

The little boy I have to take care of is really, really cute (according to his mother, as the result of several video Skype sessions, he thinks I live inside the computer, and checks occasionally to see if I am still trapped).  And his/my family also seems super cool.  They've had au pairs before, and, while I have to speak to my three-year-old charge in English, his parents have stipulated in the contract that they have to teach me German, which I appreciate.  Also, I have a ton of free time.  Also, I can take a language class (read: free friends).  Also, the barn where they breed Hanoverian horses is right down the street.  Also, every fall they march the stallions through the town...?  Also, (and I am particularly excited about this point), both Marina AND Sungmi, two of my dearest also-foreign friends from Konstanz, have BOTH relocated to Germany for the forseeable future, and both are relatively close to me (2 and 3 hours away respectively).  So that is exciting!

At any rate, the one-way plane ticket in my drawer says it is all over but the shouting.  I found myself super procrastinating on buying the ticket, and after two weeks of saying "I'll buy it tomorrow," I realized that that was my signal that I needed to buy it today.  And by "today," I mean three months ago.  So I did!  I am bound for a small town right outside of Hanover, where I'll be living for the first ten months of my German experience.  For those of you unfamiliar with German geography, please see Exhibit A.  And if I haven't already been harassing you with this information, (which means I a) haven't seen you, or b) you've been wearing earplugs in my presence, you asshole) D-Day is scheduled for June 15th.  Haha, get it?  D-Day?  The American invasion of Europe?  I am awesome.  +1 for offensive content.  

That's about all I've got for now!  I will be updating this occasionally with my travelling stories in the next month, and then in June you can all start reading about my adventures/disasters (potato/potahto) more regularly.  Feel free to post comments and what not, and if you know your name, feel free to put that too.  Not that I don't enjoy guessing which "Anonymous" wrote "Tina, you're retarded," but it's faster with names.    

On PPBs:

As most of you already know, historically, pre-pubescent German boys and I don't get along.  (If you want a refresher course, please turn your attention here, here, here, and possibly here)  My not-so-secret hope is that this time around, being the guardian of a pre-pubescent German child will grant me at least partial immunity to their general ridiculousness. I have elected in advance NOT to count the shenanigans of my charge, unless I deem it such an epic fail, most likely involving public humiliation, that censoring my own incompetence would be a crime.  But for all-intensive purposes, I'm resetting the scoreboard.  As of June 15th, it will be 
Tina:  0     PPBs:  0 


Let's see how long that one lasts then, shall we?