One of the things I like best about Sabine is her name. See, in America we would simply say suh-BEAN, which gets the job done, but it's a bit, well, flaccid. It kinda just ker-PLUNKS right out of your mouth. But here In Germany, where the Germans speak German and switch the S's to Z's and give every vowel its very own syllable, suh-BEAN becomes zuh-BEE-nuh. Mmmmm, now we're talking! Go ahead and say it out loud - and then purr like a cat who just found a sunbeam. Yummy. And if you don't think she deserves such a sultry name, then you must not have seen her shoes last night.
Sidenote: Some of her friends call her BEE-nuh for short, which is adorable, but impossible for me because BEE-nuh sounds way too much like BEE-ner, or beaner, which is what you call Mexican kids when you want to get your ass kicked in PE class. I tried it once, and thought Sonny Gonzales was going to fly into Hamburg just to spit on my locker again. We'll have none of that.
Anyways, last night we celebrated Zuh-BEE-nuh's thirtieth birthday at a cool little bar in Eimsbüttel. It was fun, and we drank and hung out and watched a little slide show put together by her hip photographer boyfriend. So welcome, sweet Zuh-BEE-nuh, to thirty. We're glad to have you.
Oh, I went to bed at 5am (how you like me now?) and slept 'til noon. Rock 'n roll, baby.
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