Category Archives: BEING STUPID

I have done it.

So I went to my client’s event and loved it. Every minute of it.

But the way there …

It all started at home, of course.

My two-weeks-ago-carefully-put-together outfit fell out due to one fact I had ignored when doing the sartorial maths. Luckily, I conjured the next outfit on the spot, as you would, and I still had enough time to check it out. Unluckily, the second outfit wasn’t good enough, either. I did tell you I had nothing to wear?!?!

Like in a fairy tale, it was the third outfit, born out of necessity (aka 5 minutes to go) that was good enough and made me feel well, so off I went.

Only to find myself in an old train half an hour later, wondering whether the 3 guys next to me were going to drink all that beer and what the strap of my brand new bag was doing down there. They didn’t, they were rather nice while sipping their beer, and the strap had gotten somehow detached from the bag – without my help.That something like this should happen!

So now what? What now so? Now what so?

Ahhh, my brain cell went, you have some safety pins in your kaputted bag – use them. So I did. The bag lasted till I made the first few steps in the small town I had been headed to.

Do you know Karstadt? It’s one of those warehouses that are going to be abolished because we all shop cheap things online these days (like bags). Anyway, there was a Karstadt near the venue I was headed for and they sold me a most lovely bag within minutes, made all the sympathetic noises while I told them about my stupid old bag, didn’t wince when I used their surfaces to empty the old bag and fill the new one and wished me a nice evening.

I threw away the old bag, what else and had myself a nice evening.

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Heute: Darjeeling mit Fettaugen.

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A Gender Bender,

 … first thing in the morning, no less.

  • “Dear Mrs. Client, I can deliver your translation next week.”
  • “Thank you, Mrs. Alcessa, that would be nice. Have a nice week.”
  • “Thank you, Mrs. Client, wish you a nice week, too.”
  • “Thank you. Actually, that would be Mr. Client, Nicolas being a French male name.”
  • “Oh, I am so sorry! I read your name as ‘Nicola’ … You know, I get called Mr. from time to time, too. Funny thing, no?”
  • “Yes, it happens all the time, no problem :-)”

Liar.


Wortbruch oder zwei.

“Wozu hat ein Haus Alt..bauch..arme?”

“Alt-Bauch-….? Ha, ha, ha …”

Er lacht. Ich kapiere.

“Es gibt bei weitem nicht genug Gelächter auf der Welt!”

UPDATE: Und auch nicht genug Satire.


Okay, 2015. Let us go then, you and I. *Sigh.*

2015


Still a rock star.

Hmmm, not bad, a date with husband on Tuesday night … They do make great potatoes with veggies and the beer is nice …

I am trying to postpone the beginning of a new day, pouring mineral water into my coffee and remembering those veggies …

Wait! What?!?!? Mineral water … 😯

Well, it tastes bad, but not too bad …

Let’s have a look at my Inbox.

Wait? What?!?!? Translators’ Dementia?!?!? And this is what I get from my so-called blogosphere friends? 😆

I take another sip of coffee with mineral water and milk and decide to patent it.


Najljubši

Spadam med frike, ki …

… so sposobni sanjati grde zadeve in si v sanjah dopovedati, da le sanjajo, potem pa sanjati še naprej, da bi videli, kako se bo ta sicer grda, vendar tudi zanimiva zgodbica končala. 🙂

Potem pa se mi je prejšnjo noč sanjalo …

… da je moj mož hotel na dopust nekam zelo daleč vstran, kar brez mene, menda z nekim prjatlom, po vrnitvi pa se je mislil odseliti vstran in poskusiti samsko življenje, midva pa bi ostala le frenda.

Neumnica neumna sem si v sanjah dopovedala, da tokrat ne sanjam in da naj se sprijaznim s tem. 😯

Potem pa sem se znašla v težki dilemi: tako kot drugi ljudje tudi moj mož ne v resnici ne v sanjah ni moj predmet (objekt), prilastek (atribut) ali prislovno določilo (načina, vzroka, denarja): moj mož je v prvi vrsti osebek (subjekt). Kako torej osebku z lastno voljo dopovedati, da vi bi ga pa kar egoistično obdržali (objekt), gottverdammt!?

Moram priznati, da problema v sanjah nisem rešila, sem pa bila zelo, ZELO vesela, ko sem se končno zbudila in je moj najljubši osebek ležal ob meni 😳

EDIT (19.11.13 ob 17:43):

Včeraj zvečer sem se nenadoma odločila, da mu povem o svojih sanjah: “In da bo to jasno: nikamor ne greš, ker se ne strinjam s tem. Kar pozabi!”

Ko se je nehal čuditi in smejati, je svojo prijavil še on: “Da bo to jasno: ne dovolim ti takih sanj. Kam pa pridemo. Poskrbi, da jih ne boš imela nikoli več!” 😆


Things Happen, No?

Howdy. … Or something.

After having ticked off the survival of this year’s autumn exhaustion successfully (I needed an additional round of workout, though, it must be the age) I am somewhat lost for words … Oh, I know: I must have used them all up to write my uni homework, describing in too many words why person A needn’t pay the purchase price. Lucky bastard: most of us have to.

Not an easy task, studying at home: while I love being independent, I fear I spend too much time searching for information that should simply be available in bulk … On the other hand, when have you last attended a uni seminar wearing a roller in your hair? Exactly.

I must wonder whether I do this on purpose, just to relive the good olden times, when thinking about Kant made me ignore both friends and traffic signs: after having paid my bills and stuff, I turn around to see if anybody’s waiting for me to finish my electronic papirology (nope, dear hackers, I do not bank online) and see a nice lady so I smile in her direction and she smiles back. I take my papers and my wallet and leave, only to remember I am also carrying a handbag today. So I turn and smile apologetically at the nice lady, who looks a bit shattered. “One of those Saturdays” I admit, grip my bag and walk home to finish my seminar paper on not needing to pay. Damn.

Oh, and all the big plans for tomorrow! Polish the parquet and the wardrobe fronts, finally try sewing with my wonderful new sewing machine, finish the seminar paper and get to read a bit.

Very warm here. Like: almost T-shirt and sandals warm. When the nice DHL girl told me this morning they have switched to the Christmas season regime I couldn’t help but exclaim. “Already!?!?” She told me they do that on 1. November and I realized we have November now. So that’s where all the flowers have gone.

Ahhh, and the November sun! Just imagine being able to say that: November sun! It makes all the garish orange, pink and salmon houses in our little town shine sort of beautifoolishly. Not bad at all, I really have to take care not to go down a notch or two in my taste …

Just one more annual exhaustion to tick off and then it’s Christmas.

fancy


Ne tega delat. Bljek.

Nasmeh mu izgine z obraza, previdno me pogleda in potem vseeno vpraša “Kaj pa je to?”

“Oh, paradižnikova omaka z rdečo peso in rdečim zeljem,” sem srečna. “Mogoče najprej poskusiš in če ti ni všeč, vzameš kaj drugega?”

Zdaj tudi jaz previdno gledam. Njegov obraz, lonec, njegov obraz, lonec …

“Ne, ne.” je vljuden in odločen, pravi moški pač: “Bo že.” 

Torej mu na krompir nabašem svojo na novo izumljeno omako, temno rdečo, s koščki rdečega zelja barve žameta, za vsak slučaj pa sebi odmerim večji delež.

Omaka je grozna. Tako grozna je, da je niti moja najljubša zelenjava, namreč kuhan krompir, ne more rešiti. Solim, dodajam sir, razmišljam, a bi pojedla do konca ali raje ne bi. Nič ga ne vprašam, kako kaj in te stvari.

Kmalu sta krožnika prazna. “Boš preživel?”

“Bom. Pod enim pogojem.”

“Da tega ne skuham nikoli več.”

Oddahne si: “Tako je.”

Postane me strah. Z zelenjavo sem bila namreč eksperimentirala že prejšnji dan, in sicer sem delala zelenjavni čips. Iz rdeče pese, kodrastega ohrovta, kolerabe in zelene. Ker pa sem vso to kulinariko zganjala med delovnim časom, se mi je vmes malce mudilo, zato pač nisem vsakega lističa zelenjave posebej položila na papir v pekaču, temveč so se rahlo prekrivali. Rezultat? Kup mokrih slanih krp za pomivanje z okusom zelenjave. Kolerabo sem vrgla v smeti, ker sem se še skoraj pravi čas spomnila, da sem dragemu svečano obljubila, da kolerabe NIKOLI VEČ ne bom kupila, kaj šele kuhala. Ostale vlažne krpice sem dala v hladilnik, do dneva, ko bom vedela, kaj z njimi.

Torej danes. Medtem ko sem kuhala bodočo obupno paradižnikovo omako (dragi moji, paradižnikovo omako totalno pokvarite tako, da ji dodate rezine rdečega zelja, kocke rdeče pese in zelene iz zamrzovalnika, da jo pozabite dovolj začiniti ali vsaj dodati smetano, pa še prehitro postrežete z njo, ker niste vedeli, da se rdeča pesa mora dlje kuhati), sem zelenjavne čipsove krpice od včeraj zmešala z lončkom ricotte, 2 jajcema, sezamom, mletimi mandlji in malce polnozrnate moke. Kar bo, pa bo. Zmes je bila roza barve, saj je rdeča pesa zelo prepričljivega značaja. Briga me: roza maso sem zakamuflirala s sončničnimi semeni in jo 30 minut pekla na 175 stopinjah.

“Res ne bom nikoli več,” mu obljubim, “hočeš malce zelenjavne pite?”

“A to so tiste krpice od včeraj? Raje ne.”

Tudi mene je strah. Kaj neki sem spet ustvarila?

Ugriznem in glej ga zlomka: zadeva je slučajno odlična. Oddahnem si.

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A Blast From The Past

“Can I somehow help you?”

“Yyyyes?” I blush. “I’d like a photo of my dragon earring. You know, for later. So that when I am 80, I’ll find this photo and say to myself ‘Gee, I used to wear a dragon ear cuff when I was 40. Blimey.”

“Well yeah, that’s a good idea. Right then … here you go.” He smiles kindly and I sort of blush again. I am quite sure I am not supposed to talk like that, but there you go. Gosh.

uhan

(7 days to go)