The Shittiest Night Ever

...and was it shitty. Tonight all I achieved was a lot of pizza eating (which was not the shitty part, this came before), shitting in a train yard, staring at a sad puppy while I smoke all of my cigarettes for two hours, and then spending a weeks worth of grocery money on a taxi. Do you know how important 15 Euros is? I'm lucky to have two coins to rub together, 15 Euros is amazing. 15 Euros is food, toilet paper, shelter, cigarettes, snacks and drinks and so much more. Bus tickets, phone calls, everything. I can get all of that for 15 Euros. And I spent it on a taxi ride because it was cold and I was a long, long way from home. This is how it goes:

Amanda and I went to this club, A1 Music Park, to meet up with some people. We get there and it is a huge, ridiculous CENTER, like Target Center, with a giant light on the top like a casino and a line at least 500 people long to get in. We stand in line, leave the line to meet Yu at the bus station, and then stand in line again. I am sick. I have a stomach ache that moves buildings, I feel like I'm going to die and I'm near tears. It's like my bowels exploded inside my stomach, from a scale of 1 to 10 my pain is a 5,000. Eventually, I abandon all hope, run into the far train yard after telling Amanda I'd go there, and end up squatting in a desolate train yard, in a bramble bush.

Feeling better, I go back to the line and Amanda and Yu are nowhere to be found. I look all over, call their names, but I figure they went in. I am disheartened and stand at the back on the line, having no cell phone, hoping that I will find Amanda inside and everything will be good again.

I wait in the line for two hours. Halfway through I see a dog, sitting all alone inside the stairwell, looking sadder than I have ever seen a puppy look before. It stares at every person that goes past and then lies down and cries. It was horrible. I was very cold and very depressed, realizing that there are MORE people inside and that the chance of finding Amanda is very slim. I wait, regardless, and when I finally get to the front I am kicked out along with ten other people, for reasons that are no explained to me. I hear a guy say there are too many people and I stand there, completely bewildered, and ask in bad German if the bouncer has seen Amanda (fat chance, I know). The guy in front of my offers 500 dollars to get into the club and when the bouncer turns him down I figure I've been ousted from the line of Trier's elite and grab a cab home.

Now, this I don't get. I talk to the driver in German, but he answers me all in English. I answer his English questions in German and he keeps answering me in English. Okay, really, what the hell? Am I that obviously American? I could have been fucking Chinese or something, he didn't know. Anyway, the cab ride is silent except for Fat Bottomed Girls and Jesse's Girl on the radio which almost make my night okay, and I pay a week's worth of comfort for the ride. Now I'm in my room, hoping that Amanda is worried about me because I could very well be dead in a ditch and everyone else is having fun. I am going to be miserable when she tells me how much fun she had because I am not classy, pretty, or rich enough to get into some goddamn club and I had the worst stomach ache in the world tonight. I am most pissed about losing all that fucking money. What do I do to deserve this? Come on, really? I'm a Catholic. I live a pretty clean life. I'm in college, working my ass off to be somebody, right? Why is the world shitting on me? 15 EUROS. :O My god, I'm going to be poor again so soon and once you've been dirt poor, no money poor, no food poor, even for a week or two, you never want to be that way again.

So, yeah. It was a bad night. Never going out again if my life depends on it.

The Poorest Monad in the World

I was poor. Was. I was so poor that I didn't have toilet paper. I was so poor that I ate plain rice and cried over my empty stomach. I was so poor I rolled the remaining tobacco from my butts into dictionary paper to smoke it. I was so poor I went to bed sad every night. But no more! I have entered a world called BUDGETING and I have over 50 Euros on my person and another large amount stashed the fuck away. No more crying over spilt water because it's the last of my water (I'm kidding, water comes from the tap.) I even bought SPONGES today. I had enough disposable money to buy sponges. Thank god, now I can do my dishes in peace.

MEXICO PARTY

So, two nights ago Amanda and I ventured out to meet our buddy Miguel for a party for Mexico's Independence Day. I ate some sort of meat and chocolate dish that was delicious but once I discovered that there was chocolate in it I sort of 'ughed' and felt weird and chocolately.

There was a man on the bus whose entire head was made of bumps and he looked a little like a weird version of the Hellraiser guy. When Amanda sat in front of him he actually moved his strange head back into my line of sight so I spent a long time staring out the window, trying not to stare at his bump head.

The party consisted of lots of drinking and dancing and lots of people trying to convince me to dance which was harrowing and frightening. I danced a little but once 5 in the morning rolled around I was ready to pass out and dance no more. One might say that I had danced myself out. Amanda, however, was still going strong.

There's not a lot to say, I found out some useful tourist things about Paris and danced ein bisschen but when Amanda and I got back to our rooms we ate pirogies (SP?!) rather than sleep. We made about 80 or so and ate them for three straight days. Delicious and filling. I felt like my ntire lower stomach was a rock for days. I still feel that way. BLARGH.

The Best Band (Shirt) in the World

Alrightie, so last night Amanda and I made our way to Luxembourg for a night of listening to The Faint and hanging around. We got there, immediately were 'Oooh laaa laaa'ed from a car (a triumph, to have been 'ooh laaa laa'ed in a French speaking country) and travelled into the janky warehouse district to find the venue. After much running around for a cheeseburger we got into the show, met a woman named Brigette who was doing press stuff and trying to get an interview with The Faint, and I drank two useless shots of juice and vokda. I asked for vodka. I got it mixed with Loooooza juice.

So, the concert was great except for the group of rowdy British hipster boys behind us. I might have broken one of their hands had they not been slighty amusing and attractive. Hand breaking became more of an issue as I was jostled, had a sticker stuck to my back (which I found later), asked to buy them beers, had my butt grabbed, and was given a massage from one especially drugged out looking one in a suit jacket. I still danced (GASP) and enjoyed myself. The night was compounded later.

Amanda and I, having missed our train (which I cotinued to refer to as the 'bus' for some reason), wandered the club, sat around waiting for Brigette, and then, by Amanda's sly luck, HUNG OUT WITH THE FAINT. Amanda, sticking her head into the tour bus to inquire about Brigette, wanting to say good bye, was greeted with some members of The Faint coming out and having a cigarette with us. We were handed a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka, respectively, and for two to three hours sat around and talked with The Faint guys and the sound guys. It was quite interesting.

But by now I was freezing in a tank top with no jacket, not having foreseen being out in Luxembourg in the early morning hours, and I desperately wanted to put on my Faint shirt. But I didn't want to look weird around The Faint, right? So I waited and, after getting out of sight of the bus, threw it on to be pleasantly surprised that it was INCREDIBLY SOFT AND WONDERFUL. It was a good fit, slightly baggy, and it was made from the softest shirt material known to man.

Go see The Faint. Get their tee shirt. It is totally worth it.

After I cooked Amanda and I meals at 7 in the morning we went to bed and I found that, GASP, I could not sleep. So I sat up and counted for awhile.

And that was my night.

Requiem for Chili Chips

WRITTEN LAST NIGHT:
Someone once told me that certain cautionary things made him terrified of being in certain, unprecedented situations. This certain person used the example of the rape play, the famous and wonderful rape play that Hamline puts on every year. Apparently this play made him terrified that he would, indeed, rape somebody. He was dead serious, too. If I mentioned who this individual was you'd know how serious he was. In other news, TextEdit counts 'ho' as a word.

I made the mistake of watching 'Requiem for a Dream', a movie that requires hugs afterwards (poor Jared Leto, he's going to have trouble hugging people after THAT, amirite? Okay, poor taste). That movie makes me terrified that I'm going to become a drug addict. Ridiculous, right? You don't just BECOME a drug addict. William S. Burroughs once talked about how long it would take to get a junk habit. Something like, a month or more of everyday intravenous drug use for a first timer. Okay, but still. I don't want my arm chopped off. I don't want to become a whore. I don't want to end up an old lady in a mental ward, wanting to be on television. I am just slightly terrified. Although, the movie does a very good job of not glorifying drug use, which is interesting. It also helps to have your druggie friends puking out their guts and screaming, that certainly isn't glorified in any way. In fact, having seen my fair share of vomit and head wounds from all night benders of god knows what, I'm pretty okay with not doing a whole ton of drugs most of the time. The most adverse effect my once friend, mentioned above, had from Adderal and Vodka was becoming 'CROCKLEY FOR BROCCOLI' and forcing his way into the kitchen to devour a bag of frozen broccoli. So it's not all bad. Then again, he did throw me from his house and tell me that I should go DIAF (die in a fire) after my brother was hospitalized simply because he was sick of me complaining about my weight. I try not to do that so much anymore.

It's 3:35 in the morning and for lack of things to do I've smoked a pack of cigarettes and eaten a bag of ChiliChips. I watched some Firefly, some Bleach, and then Requiem. Needless to say, I can't sleep, but it's not all that late so I'll probably be tired by 5ish. I just have fucking nothing to do until I DO become tired.

Broke/Starving?

Not starving yet but I am becoming one of those people living from payment to payment for now. Mama never learned me right and so I've got a cabinet full of tortellini (the 75 cent kind with cheap meat parts inside), a deck or cards and a half a pack of Pall Malls. Life is good. It feels a little nice to live simply, it's just that Trier has nothing to do and I have three friends, one of which is Amanda. She is quite stir crazy now and may be off to Bonn so I guess I'll pick up a hobby that doesn't cost anything, like drawing. Things will be tough when I run out of paper. :O

Whisky Tango Foxtrott

Sierre Oscar, Mike Yankee - Charlie Oscar Mike Papa Uniform Tango Echo Romeo - India Sierra - Bravo Romeo Oscar Kilo Echo November. Sierra Hotel India Tango.

India Tango ' Sierra - Lima Alpha Tango Echo. India ' Mike - Bravo Oscar Romeo Echo Delta.

Get-Hammed

I forgot to mentioned in the last post that as I was trying to tell Ms. Gorgon that my mother sent me a MoneyGram I said, "Meine Mutter hat mit MoneyGram geschinken." Alright, probably not so correct, but most incorrect of all is the fact that 'to send' is 'schicken' and 'schinken' is 'ham'. So I used a noun as a verb and said that my mother 'ge-ham'. Or, in English, 'My mother hammed me some money'. That was awesome.

The Gloomy Sunday continues, however, as I forgot my keys in my room this morning and now have no way to get back in as the HausMeister is not in his office util 11 tomorrow. So I'm sleeping on Amanda's floor under my jacket. It's going to be awesome.

Gloomy Sunday

Alrightie, I cursed my day. I listened to Billie Holiday's, 'Gloomy Sunday' yesterday morning and it began to rain. That should have been the first sign that something was wrong. Amanda and I then took the bus downtown, me totally broke and her with no small change besides one bus fare. We got to the GE Money Bank where, after walking in (and whamming the door into the standing insurance sign) everyone stared at us. We filled out a form for me to get my MoneyGram from Debo but honestly, I froze up and instead of German coming out of my mouth there was this, "JSKLdslkjsdlklksj" and a long, ceaseless 'eeeEEEEEeeee' in my head. Harrowing.

I sat there and the woman, now convinced that I spoke and understood absolutely zero German, proceeded to type in my information but needed my passport. So, in the rain, Amanda and I trudged back to the busstop and rode the bus, more crowded than I have ever seen it, back to campus. We got my passport and made the return trip, in the pouring rain, back to the GE Money Bank. This all took about an hour and a half.

THEN, the woman, Gisela Goergen, a medium set woman in a black laxy top and a tiny, red miniskirt, somewhere in her late fourties, took about an hour or so trying to get my information into the computer. There was confusion over whether I was Korean or American. A man named Bernd came and repeatedly tried to help. Amanda offered the solution several times but was ignored and we waited through a phone call until they finally figured out what she had been trying to tell them the whole time and I finally got my money. I was ready to swallow shotgun mouthwash.

We ate a huge meal at McDonald's and then ice cream. The rain was ridiculous and sadness was all around. I PMSed. I bawed. It was miserable and I felt miserable all day. BAW.

Moral of the story, never listen to Gloomy Sunday.

On another note, I am sure The Gorgon and Bernd are having a torried GE Money Bank affair. We will see how this progresses.

Iiiiiiit's MIKA

There's this guy on campus that I see almost every day in the Menses and he looks pretty much just like Mika with glasses. Everytime I see him I get the horrible urge to run up and start singing, "Iiiiiit's MIKA!" and then start clapping my hands.

Hopefully, this weekend, a friend will be cooking delicious Mexican food. My bowels cannot wait.

Also, I believe that a colony of fish flies is breeding somewhere in my room. They appear, fly around weirdly, as if retarded, or perhaps, overjoyed, and I kill them with a book. When a fish fly is killed with something heavy and so suddenly, their legs FLY out in every direction. They are EVERYWHERE, whether the door is open or not.

Last note, Amanda has a friend named Urine.