Flavor:
Marc de Champagne (Milk chocolate with champagne filling)
Sweetness: 0 out of 5
Yuck! Gross! Blech! I practically spit this one out the moment I opened the package (dramatic!). I don't really like alcohol flavor in chocolate, and I don't like champagne at all. So I suppose you could say that my relationship with this chocolate bar was doomed from the start. Nevertheless, I popped a square into my talking hole as a conciliatory gesture; an effort to preempt any ill-will between me and this chocolate. What a mistake. I should have tossed it out the window. The aroma is BAD, the flavor is BAD, the aftertaste is BAD. The chocolate is okay, but the filling is awful, and the whole thing is so sharply sweet it was like chewing on tacks. And there must be a lot of alcohol in there because it does that thing that alcohol does - it wafts up into your sinus cavity and stings. Bah! Fuck you Marc de Champagne!
Texture: 4 out of 5
Okay, so despite the fact that this bar is basically disgusting, I can't fault it's texture too much. The milk chocolate is soft, but not too soft. The champagne filling is a little too soft (boo) but at least it's not liquid (yay!). Liquid _whatever_ in chocolate usually bugs the crap out of me. So given all that, I'm bestowing upon this bar four points for texture. It should probably be three, but I'm feeling a little guilty since there are so many zeroes surrounding the four..
Devourability: 0 out of 5
I didn't even finish this one. I think I had two squares. Ew.
Frequency: 0 out of 5
Yeah.
Overall: 4 out of 20, but only because I'm a nice guy.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Ritter Sport Review #3
Flavor:
Pfefferminz (Dark chocolate with peppermint filling)
FULL DISCLOSURE: This is already one of my favorites.
Sweetness: 4 out of 5
Hot damn! The combination of dark chocolate and perfect peppermint delecticality makes for a near-perfect balance of sweetness. If I at too many squares at once, it would probably be too sweet; but one at a time, and it's like little squares of heaven.
Texture: 5 out of 5
The chocolate has exactly the right bite, and the peppermint is smooth as hell. It's minty perfection. It's refreshment times sixteen. I want to fuck this chocolate bar.
Devourability: 4 out of 5
Yep, this one didn't last too long, though like i said above, I can't eat it too fast. But that's really more of a beauty mark than a mole.
Frequency: 5 out of 5
I could eat this every day until the end of time, if only because it makes my pee smell like peppermint. Seriously.
Overall: 18 out of 20
Pfefferminz (Dark chocolate with peppermint filling)
FULL DISCLOSURE: This is already one of my favorites.
Sweetness: 4 out of 5
Hot damn! The combination of dark chocolate and perfect peppermint delecticality makes for a near-perfect balance of sweetness. If I at too many squares at once, it would probably be too sweet; but one at a time, and it's like little squares of heaven.
Texture: 5 out of 5
The chocolate has exactly the right bite, and the peppermint is smooth as hell. It's minty perfection. It's refreshment times sixteen. I want to fuck this chocolate bar.
Devourability: 4 out of 5
Yep, this one didn't last too long, though like i said above, I can't eat it too fast. But that's really more of a beauty mark than a mole.
Frequency: 5 out of 5
I could eat this every day until the end of time, if only because it makes my pee smell like peppermint. Seriously.
Overall: 18 out of 20
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Ritter Sport Review #2
Flavor:
Erdbeer Joghurt (milk chocolate with strawberry yogurt filling)
Sweetness: 3 out of 5
Wow, this mofo is sweet. The chocolate is sweet, the fruity filling is sweet, it's all just a tornado of sweetness stabbing me in the throat. Not as obnoxious as some cheap POS chocolate bar, but too sweet for me.
Texture: 4 out of 5
The chocolate is creamy, the yogurt is creamy, and the crispies are crispy. Crispies? Yes. What I thought were little rice crispies are in fact, according to Ricardo, who always seems to know about these kinds of things, dried strawberries. Clever! And a delightfully contrasty addition. I like. The whole thing feels light and Spring-y... though ironically, it's not part of the Spring collection.
Devourability: 2 out of 5
It's tasty, but a little too sweet for me to want to shove the whole thing in my gullet all at once. This one needs to be enjoyed in small bits over time.
Frequency: 1 out of 5
You know what doesn't belong in chocolate? Fruit. Here, they've done a nice job of putting together two things that don't go together... but still. No.
Overall: 10 out of 20
Yeah, this was a fun little trip into girly chocolate territory. But I'm ready to take off the dress and have a Halbbitter.
Erdbeer Joghurt (milk chocolate with strawberry yogurt filling)
Sweetness: 3 out of 5
Wow, this mofo is sweet. The chocolate is sweet, the fruity filling is sweet, it's all just a tornado of sweetness stabbing me in the throat. Not as obnoxious as some cheap POS chocolate bar, but too sweet for me.
Texture: 4 out of 5
The chocolate is creamy, the yogurt is creamy, and the crispies are crispy. Crispies? Yes. What I thought were little rice crispies are in fact, according to Ricardo, who always seems to know about these kinds of things, dried strawberries. Clever! And a delightfully contrasty addition. I like. The whole thing feels light and Spring-y... though ironically, it's not part of the Spring collection.
Devourability: 2 out of 5
It's tasty, but a little too sweet for me to want to shove the whole thing in my gullet all at once. This one needs to be enjoyed in small bits over time.
Frequency: 1 out of 5
You know what doesn't belong in chocolate? Fruit. Here, they've done a nice job of putting together two things that don't go together... but still. No.
Overall: 10 out of 20
Yeah, this was a fun little trip into girly chocolate territory. But I'm ready to take off the dress and have a Halbbitter.
Ritter Sport Review #1!
Flavor:
Mandelsplitter Bio (milk chocolate with chopped almonds, organic)
Sweetness: 4 out of 5
I'm really a dark chocolate guy, but I dig Ritter Sport's milk chocolate because it's not too sugary sweet (like Milka) and it tastes like real chocolate, and not like chocolate's plasticky cousin from LA who visits for the weekend to mess up your apartment and do drugs on your coffee table (like Hershey). So I'll give it a good sweetness rating because for milk chocolate, it's the right level of sweetocity.
Texture: 2 out of 5
This bugged me - the almonds are chopped too fine, and there are too many of them. Too many almonds! It was like having a mouth full of ground up wood (I've always found the almond to be the woodiest of nuts). The chocolate texture was perfect, though. Like I said, Ritter Sport does milk good.
Devourability: 3.5 out of 5
Despite the texture issues, once I started I couldn't stop. Maybe it's the mix of salty (the almonds, of course) and sweet (the chocolate, duh) that kept my fingers in a strict back and forth pattern. My half bar only lasted as long as it takes to walk from my office, downstairs, across the street, and up the elevator. About four minutes, I think.
Frequency: 2 out of 5
Yeah, I'm not going to be buying this one too often. Or ever, I think. But if you have one, I'll take a square or two. Thanks in advance!
Overall: 11.5 out of 20
I liked it, but it didn't change my life. It had a one thing going against it from the very beginning - that it's milk chocolate instead of dark. And adding almonds and making the whole thing organic just couldn't overcome that hurdle.
And here's a link to Shelley's review.
Mandelsplitter Bio (milk chocolate with chopped almonds, organic)
Sweetness: 4 out of 5
I'm really a dark chocolate guy, but I dig Ritter Sport's milk chocolate because it's not too sugary sweet (like Milka) and it tastes like real chocolate, and not like chocolate's plasticky cousin from LA who visits for the weekend to mess up your apartment and do drugs on your coffee table (like Hershey). So I'll give it a good sweetness rating because for milk chocolate, it's the right level of sweetocity.
Texture: 2 out of 5
This bugged me - the almonds are chopped too fine, and there are too many of them. Too many almonds! It was like having a mouth full of ground up wood (I've always found the almond to be the woodiest of nuts). The chocolate texture was perfect, though. Like I said, Ritter Sport does milk good.
Devourability: 3.5 out of 5
Despite the texture issues, once I started I couldn't stop. Maybe it's the mix of salty (the almonds, of course) and sweet (the chocolate, duh) that kept my fingers in a strict back and forth pattern. My half bar only lasted as long as it takes to walk from my office, downstairs, across the street, and up the elevator. About four minutes, I think.
Frequency: 2 out of 5
Yeah, I'm not going to be buying this one too often. Or ever, I think. But if you have one, I'll take a square or two. Thanks in advance!
Overall: 11.5 out of 20
I liked it, but it didn't change my life. It had a one thing going against it from the very beginning - that it's milk chocolate instead of dark. And adding almonds and making the whole thing organic just couldn't overcome that hurdle.
And here's a link to Shelley's review.
Monday, April 07, 2008
The Great Rittersport Challenge of 2008
I'm pleased to announce that both Shelley (fellow former MAS'er, current co-worker, long-time bad-ass) and I have decided to join together and take our love for all things sweet, more specifically our addiction to chocolate (the first step is admitting it to yourself), to the next level. Starting today (Monday), we are embarking upon our very own Ritter Sport Challenge. The goal (if you could really call it a goal) is to eat one Ritter Sport candy bar a day until we've tasted allannals the Ritter Sports that Ritter Sport currently offers. It's an undertaking that we're willing to... er... undertake because we love you, dear reader, and we want you to know what all the flavors are, if only vicariously through us. You're welcome.
But we're not just going to try each one, we're going to keep track so that each flavor will be properly (ha!) documented and entered into the annuls of human history as is befitting of such a righteous candy bar. Which is a fancy way of saying that I'm going to use this as an excuse to blog, and Shelley's going to sketch stuff with her superfly illustration skillz.
So if we're going to rate each bar, we need some sort of criteria, right? Right! We'll rate each one with the following criteria:
Sweetness. Is it sugary and sweet like someone from San Diego, or is it dark and bitter like a JvM employee?
Texture. What does the chocolate feel like in your mouth? How does it 'bite' and how does it melt? is it gooey or crunchy or both? And more importantly, do you like it that way?
Devourablility. Are you satisfied with a little nip every now and then? Or do you want to cram that motherfucker in your mouth as fast as possible?
Frequency. Is this the kinda thing you're going to eat everyday? Or is this a once-in-a-while, just-because-it's-Tuedsay sorta thing?
So each day, we'll try a flavor, write down what we think rate it with the criteria, and post it. In the end, we'll have something approaching a complete review of the entire Ritter Sport product line, which I think we can all agree has been needed for some time now.
And since this is a web-based endeavor, I've created a FAQ for your viewing pleasure; partly to answer any questions ya'll might have, and partly because I just think it's funny to have a FAQ containing questions that no one has actually asked; I just made them up completely. Irony alert!
FAQ:
So, you're just doing this so you can eat chocolate everyday and not feel bad about it right?
Yes. That and both Shelley and I share a genuine desire to taste all the different flavors RRitter Sport has to offer so that when we're with friends in the grocery store, and they ask if we've tried this flavor or that, we can say "Yeah, sure, I've tried that one" and dismiss it like some super hipster chocolate god.
Are the flavors really that different?
We're gonna find out. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, with/out nuts, fruity, alcoholly... there's a lot of flavors. And each package is a different color. Pretty!
Come on Dan, we all know you eat one Ritter Sport per day. Haven't you had all the flavors by now?
It's true, I eat them all the time. But I'm not just a gluttonous pig - I'm also a creature of habit. That means I've really only sampled a few flavors often enough to really form an opinion about them - Marzipan, Halbitter, Edel Bitter, Mousse au Chocolat, Pfefferminz are the ones I eat all the time. The rest are like Ringo Starr songs: I have an idea of what they'll be like, but I'm pretty sure I won't like them.
Well, how many flavors are there?
33! That's a lot!
Okay, we ordered (from Ritter Sports fab website http://Ritter Sport.de/) the Kennenlern-Paket (the "get acquainted package") which comes with the 19 standard flavors...
Voll Erdnuss (milk chocolate with whole peanuts)
Knusperflakes (milk chocolate with cornflakes)
Weisse Voll-Nuss (white chocolate with whole nuts)
Cappucino (milk chocolate with coffee flavor filling)
Voll-Nuss (milk chocolate with hazelnuts)
Knusperkeks (milk chocolate with caramel and a cookie)
Trauben Nuss (not sure what this one is)
Dunkel Voll-Nuss (dark chocolate with hazelnuts)
Halbbitter (bittersweet)
Rum Trauben Nuss (rum chocolate with nuts and raisins)
Marzipan (dark chocolate with marzipan filling)
Erdbeer Joghurt (milk chocolate with strawberry yogurt filling)
Edel-Bitter (dark chocolate - 71%)
Nugat (milk chocolate with nougat filling)
Vollmilch (whole milk milk chocoate)
Aplenmilch (milk chocolate made with milk from the Alps?)
Pfefferminz (dark chocolate with peppermint filling)
Dunkle Vollmilch (dark and milk chocolate)
Ganze Mandel (milk chocolate with almonds)
a la Mousse au Chocolat (dark chocolate with mousse filling)
Cocos (milk chocolate with coconut filling)
Joghurt (milk chocolate with plain yogurt filling)
Plus, there's the Frühlingssorten (the Spring assortment), which we're going to have to buy on our own.
Marc de Champagne Trüffel (champagne truffle)
Eierlikör Trüffel (egg nog truffle)
Ramazzoti Trüffel (Ramazzoti truffle)
And then there's the Diät (diet, of course) flavors, which we'll reluctantly try, and sneer at because if we were into this half-hearted lightweight low impact diet bullshit we probably wouldn't be doing this whole shindig in the first place.
Diät Vollmilch (milk chocolate)
Diät Nugat (milk chocolate with nougat)
Diät Joghurt (milk chocolate with plain yogurt)
Diät Halbbiter (dark chocolate)
Last but not least is the Bio selection. This is a recent addition to the Ritter Sport selection. "Bio" is German for organic and fair trade, so these are the Earth-friendly Ritter Sports, I suppose. Curiously, the bars are smaller (65g instead of 100g), and even curiously-er, Shelley seems to think that the Bio bars and the Diät bars are the same. Not so! New group. And here they are:
Mandelsplitter (milk chocolate and almonds)
Vollmilch (whole milk)
Trauben Cashew (still don't know)
Feinherb (dark chocolate)
So that's it for now! I look forward to posting a fresh new Ritter Sport review soon. Delicious!
But we're not just going to try each one, we're going to keep track so that each flavor will be properly (ha!) documented and entered into the annuls of human history as is befitting of such a righteous candy bar. Which is a fancy way of saying that I'm going to use this as an excuse to blog, and Shelley's going to sketch stuff with her superfly illustration skillz.
So if we're going to rate each bar, we need some sort of criteria, right? Right! We'll rate each one with the following criteria:
Sweetness. Is it sugary and sweet like someone from San Diego, or is it dark and bitter like a JvM employee?
Texture. What does the chocolate feel like in your mouth? How does it 'bite' and how does it melt? is it gooey or crunchy or both? And more importantly, do you like it that way?
Devourablility. Are you satisfied with a little nip every now and then? Or do you want to cram that motherfucker in your mouth as fast as possible?
Frequency. Is this the kinda thing you're going to eat everyday? Or is this a once-in-a-while, just-because-it's-Tuedsay sorta thing?
So each day, we'll try a flavor, write down what we think rate it with the criteria, and post it. In the end, we'll have something approaching a complete review of the entire Ritter Sport product line, which I think we can all agree has been needed for some time now.
And since this is a web-based endeavor, I've created a FAQ for your viewing pleasure; partly to answer any questions ya'll might have, and partly because I just think it's funny to have a FAQ containing questions that no one has actually asked; I just made them up completely. Irony alert!
FAQ:
So, you're just doing this so you can eat chocolate everyday and not feel bad about it right?
Yes. That and both Shelley and I share a genuine desire to taste all the different flavors RRitter Sport has to offer so that when we're with friends in the grocery store, and they ask if we've tried this flavor or that, we can say "Yeah, sure, I've tried that one" and dismiss it like some super hipster chocolate god.
Are the flavors really that different?
We're gonna find out. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, with/out nuts, fruity, alcoholly... there's a lot of flavors. And each package is a different color. Pretty!
Come on Dan, we all know you eat one Ritter Sport per day. Haven't you had all the flavors by now?
It's true, I eat them all the time. But I'm not just a gluttonous pig - I'm also a creature of habit. That means I've really only sampled a few flavors often enough to really form an opinion about them - Marzipan, Halbitter, Edel Bitter, Mousse au Chocolat, Pfefferminz are the ones I eat all the time. The rest are like Ringo Starr songs: I have an idea of what they'll be like, but I'm pretty sure I won't like them.
Well, how many flavors are there?
33! That's a lot!
Okay, we ordered (from Ritter Sports fab website http://Ritter Sport.de/) the Kennenlern-Paket (the "get acquainted package") which comes with the 19 standard flavors...
Voll Erdnuss (milk chocolate with whole peanuts)
Knusperflakes (milk chocolate with cornflakes)
Weisse Voll-Nuss (white chocolate with whole nuts)
Cappucino (milk chocolate with coffee flavor filling)
Voll-Nuss (milk chocolate with hazelnuts)
Knusperkeks (milk chocolate with caramel and a cookie)
Trauben Nuss (not sure what this one is)
Dunkel Voll-Nuss (dark chocolate with hazelnuts)
Halbbitter (bittersweet)
Rum Trauben Nuss (rum chocolate with nuts and raisins)
Marzipan (dark chocolate with marzipan filling)
Erdbeer Joghurt (milk chocolate with strawberry yogurt filling)
Edel-Bitter (dark chocolate - 71%)
Nugat (milk chocolate with nougat filling)
Vollmilch (whole milk milk chocoate)
Aplenmilch (milk chocolate made with milk from the Alps?)
Pfefferminz (dark chocolate with peppermint filling)
Dunkle Vollmilch (dark and milk chocolate)
Ganze Mandel (milk chocolate with almonds)
a la Mousse au Chocolat (dark chocolate with mousse filling)
Cocos (milk chocolate with coconut filling)
Joghurt (milk chocolate with plain yogurt filling)
Plus, there's the Frühlingssorten (the Spring assortment), which we're going to have to buy on our own.
Marc de Champagne Trüffel (champagne truffle)
Eierlikör Trüffel (egg nog truffle)
Ramazzoti Trüffel (Ramazzoti truffle)
And then there's the Diät (diet, of course) flavors, which we'll reluctantly try, and sneer at because if we were into this half-hearted lightweight low impact diet bullshit we probably wouldn't be doing this whole shindig in the first place.
Diät Vollmilch (milk chocolate)
Diät Nugat (milk chocolate with nougat)
Diät Joghurt (milk chocolate with plain yogurt)
Diät Halbbiter (dark chocolate)
Last but not least is the Bio selection. This is a recent addition to the Ritter Sport selection. "Bio" is German for organic and fair trade, so these are the Earth-friendly Ritter Sports, I suppose. Curiously, the bars are smaller (65g instead of 100g), and even curiously-er, Shelley seems to think that the Bio bars and the Diät bars are the same. Not so! New group. And here they are:
Mandelsplitter (milk chocolate and almonds)
Vollmilch (whole milk)
Trauben Cashew (still don't know)
Feinherb (dark chocolate)
So that's it for now! I look forward to posting a fresh new Ritter Sport review soon. Delicious!
Sunday, January 06, 2008
344 words on why my new-to-me Porsche jacket is awesome.
As part of her never-ending quest to get rid of everything, mom gave me one of dad's old jackets. It's this totally awesome black, lightweight, poofy, wind-proof jacket with a fake fur collar, multi-colored piping, and a Porsche patch. The reasons I love this jacket are as follows:
1. It's actually really vintage, and I know this is true.
You know how you go into the vintage clothing store and you see all these clothes that you love because you think they're from a different era, and have had a life leading up to the day you find them? Well, how do you know this is true? Call me paranoid, but since the vintage crazy began, I've had an image in my head of devious shop owners buying new clothes that have been made to look old, roughing them up, adding a few patches, and jacking up the price. And even if that's not true*, what is true is that you don't know the history or even if there is a history. The elbow patch on that intriguingly worn army-issue jacket may be covering a hole that developed from frequent masturbation to "mature" porn. WELL, there are no such shenanigans here! This here is a genuine 80's-style jacket from the actual 80s. Dad bought it and wore it for twenty years.
2. The fucking fat/phat fake fur collar is both fun and functional.
Looks great, keeps my neck warm, feels oh-so-nice against my soft and girly skin. And no cute n' furry animals died in the making.
3. Porsches are rad cars.
This is indisputable.
I wore it for the first time today; it kept me toasty warm all the way to the Knuth Cafe & Bar where I am currently sitting. I didn't see any other jackets like this one on the walk over... having an un-trendy father is most certainly a blessing.
* or perhaps I should say even though this notion is completely ridiculous
1. It's actually really vintage, and I know this is true.
You know how you go into the vintage clothing store and you see all these clothes that you love because you think they're from a different era, and have had a life leading up to the day you find them? Well, how do you know this is true? Call me paranoid, but since the vintage crazy began, I've had an image in my head of devious shop owners buying new clothes that have been made to look old, roughing them up, adding a few patches, and jacking up the price. And even if that's not true*, what is true is that you don't know the history or even if there is a history. The elbow patch on that intriguingly worn army-issue jacket may be covering a hole that developed from frequent masturbation to "mature" porn. WELL, there are no such shenanigans here! This here is a genuine 80's-style jacket from the actual 80s. Dad bought it and wore it for twenty years.
2. The fucking fat/phat fake fur collar is both fun and functional.
Looks great, keeps my neck warm, feels oh-so-nice against my soft and girly skin. And no cute n' furry animals died in the making.
3. Porsches are rad cars.
This is indisputable.
I wore it for the first time today; it kept me toasty warm all the way to the Knuth Cafe & Bar where I am currently sitting. I didn't see any other jackets like this one on the walk over... having an un-trendy father is most certainly a blessing.
* or perhaps I should say even though this notion is completely ridiculous
Further proof that any publicity is good publicity.
Attendance up at San Francisco Zoo following fatal tiger attack
What do you want to bet that the whole thing was just a pre-planned (if ironically-named) exercise in guerilla advertising put on by some outside-the-box-thinking newbies at a local ad school? Hey, whatever it takes to tip that point.
What do you want to bet that the whole thing was just a pre-planned (if ironically-named) exercise in guerilla advertising put on by some outside-the-box-thinking newbies at a local ad school? Hey, whatever it takes to tip that point.
The ex-pat conundrum.
Jeez-louise, it's been forever since I've written in this blog. I blame work - the last three months of 2007 were relentless - but I'm back to a more normal way of life now. At least until things at work pick up again.
I was home in California for the last two weeks of December. How was it? It was exactly like you think it was - cold, but way less cold than Germany. Blue skies. Old friends. Family. Christmas presents. Too much eating. It was great, except maybe for one small thing - enough has changed back home that it doesn't quiiiiiiiiite feel like home anymore. And Hamburg is great, but it's never like home home. So I find myself hip-deep in the ex-pat conundrum. A (hopefully temporary) state of inbetweenity.
<patronizing speech written in third-person where when I say "you" of course I really mean "me">
See, when you leave your home town/city/state/country to see the world, you do it with the idea that home will always be there for you to return to when you get sick of expanding your horizons. But what you forget is that home will continue to evolve and change while you're gone. The longer you're gone, the more it changes. It'll never change so much that you can't go back. But it'll change just enough so that you're not 100% sure you belong.
And what you didn't realize is that as you explore, you'll meet new people, do new things, discover new interests, and forge new relationships out there in the world. All this stuff - good and bad - installs itself in your experience, and you change a little bit too. Not enough that you no longer fit into your old home; but enough that it feels a little less like home. Which is an oddly uncomfortable feeling similar to having a small rock in your shoe that you can't seem to isolate no matter how you jiggle your feet or wiggle your toes.
And as you build a new existence in your new place, it starts to feel more and more like home, but it will never feel like home because a) the percentage of your life you've spent there is tiny, and b) you still have one metaphorical foot in your native land.
So you find yourself in between two states of being. And you wonder if it'll always be this way. And that makes you kind of sad.
</patronizing speech written in third-person where when I say "you" of course I really mean "me">
And I know all this is true because I've talked to at least one other person, and she confirmed it. Though she sort of followed up by saying "you can be happy anywhere." Well that may be true. But it doesn't mean anywhere can feel like home.
I was home in California for the last two weeks of December. How was it? It was exactly like you think it was - cold, but way less cold than Germany. Blue skies. Old friends. Family. Christmas presents. Too much eating. It was great, except maybe for one small thing - enough has changed back home that it doesn't quiiiiiiiiite feel like home anymore. And Hamburg is great, but it's never like home home. So I find myself hip-deep in the ex-pat conundrum. A (hopefully temporary) state of inbetweenity.
<patronizing speech written in third-person where when I say "you" of course I really mean "me">
See, when you leave your home town/city/state/country to see the world, you do it with the idea that home will always be there for you to return to when you get sick of expanding your horizons. But what you forget is that home will continue to evolve and change while you're gone. The longer you're gone, the more it changes. It'll never change so much that you can't go back. But it'll change just enough so that you're not 100% sure you belong.
And what you didn't realize is that as you explore, you'll meet new people, do new things, discover new interests, and forge new relationships out there in the world. All this stuff - good and bad - installs itself in your experience, and you change a little bit too. Not enough that you no longer fit into your old home; but enough that it feels a little less like home. Which is an oddly uncomfortable feeling similar to having a small rock in your shoe that you can't seem to isolate no matter how you jiggle your feet or wiggle your toes.
And as you build a new existence in your new place, it starts to feel more and more like home, but it will never feel like home because a) the percentage of your life you've spent there is tiny, and b) you still have one metaphorical foot in your native land.
So you find yourself in between two states of being. And you wonder if it'll always be this way. And that makes you kind of sad.
</patronizing speech written in third-person where when I say "you" of course I really mean "me">
And I know all this is true because I've talked to at least one other person, and she confirmed it. Though she sort of followed up by saying "you can be happy anywhere." Well that may be true. But it doesn't mean anywhere can feel like home.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Mom makes an interesting point.
I was chatting with my mom this afternoon (3:45pm here = 6:45am there... they're early risers) and she pointed out the following:
just one very important thought............did you realize that you are the age now that i was when your were born?
I don't know what that means. But it's kinda freaking my shit out.Saturday, October 06, 2007
Things I learned at Art Forum Berlin.
Here is a short list of things I learned while visiting Art Forum in Berlin on Wednesday:
That, sir, is a ridiculous hat.
You can put feet on anything, and I'll think of it as human.
I don't like video art exhibits. Ever.I just can't take them seriously. Every single one has that jumpy, grainy, black and white footage of pouty women and/or men dancing or staring off into space or both, with no discernible plot or point. And we all watch, in those stupid square rooms painted all black, sitting on those hard block benches, with our chins resting on our knuckles, brows furrowed, nodding slightly, pretending to be interested while desperately hoping to see the word "Fin" or some tits. Ridiculous.
I like big versions of small things. You can take anything - coffee cups, thimbles, a sweater - and make it really really big, and I think it's art. And awesome. The gigantic Fiat 500 at the Frankfurt auto show was the ginchiest. And there's this big ol' Nokia cell phone used as an ad outside a cell phone shop 'tween my house and the office, and if it would fit in my bag, I'd totally steel that shiz. And outside of a lot of ice cream shops here in Hamburg are GIGANTIC plastic ice cream cones with three colorful scoops on top. I'm such a sucker for those things.
That, sir, is a ridiculous hat.
You can put feet on anything, and I'll think of it as human.
I don't like video art exhibits. Ever.I just can't take them seriously. Every single one has that jumpy, grainy, black and white footage of pouty women and/or men dancing or staring off into space or both, with no discernible plot or point. And we all watch, in those stupid square rooms painted all black, sitting on those hard block benches, with our chins resting on our knuckles, brows furrowed, nodding slightly, pretending to be interested while desperately hoping to see the word "Fin" or some tits. Ridiculous.
I like big versions of small things. You can take anything - coffee cups, thimbles, a sweater - and make it really really big, and I think it's art. And awesome. The gigantic Fiat 500 at the Frankfurt auto show was the ginchiest. And there's this big ol' Nokia cell phone used as an ad outside a cell phone shop 'tween my house and the office, and if it would fit in my bag, I'd totally steel that shiz. And outside of a lot of ice cream shops here in Hamburg are GIGANTIC plastic ice cream cones with three colorful scoops on top. I'm such a sucker for those things.
That's what I've been saying all along!
Yeah! Finally, someone with more power and influence than me (well, any power and influence is more like it) is doing something about the disgustipating mess that is the Heathrow airport. I had to travel through that hell hole on British Airways several times in the last few years, and it was always a major pain in the arse - long bus rides, followed by long walks to long lines. And if I remember correctly, you have to go through security twice. Double your pleasure. If your plane is more than ten seconds late, you're sure to miss your connection.
It's bad, bad, bad. So what did they do?They installed signs that say "If you get mad and yell at one of our employees, we'll throw your ass in the slammer. So keep your mouth shut and suffer, bitch."
Or something like that.
It's bad, bad, bad. So what did they do?They installed signs that say "If you get mad and yell at one of our employees, we'll throw your ass in the slammer. So keep your mouth shut and suffer, bitch."
Or something like that.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
We're all White Trash.
Met up with Jens and Eric and friends last night at a grrrrrrreat bar/restaurant called White Trash Fast Food. Its run by a bunch of Brits and Americans, and it's the kind of place that really makes an expat feel at home. Everyone spoke English effortlessly, the place was decorated ceiling to floor with a mix of kitschy and satanic, and the menu was hilarious - Fuck You Fries, The Fuck You Cheeseburger, and something about the tortilla chips being free, "unless you're a cunt", in which case they're ten Euros. Oh you cheeky Brits! All that, and the outstanding quality of the cheeseburger I ate (bacon motherfuckers!) make me want to move to Berlin immediately.
How international is this city? Just look at our table: one American, one Norwegian, one Swede, two Swiss, three Germans (one half Egyptian) and a lovely Dane. It would have been four Germans when Eric's girlfriend arrived, but instead of coming inside to eat, drink, and be marry, she stayed outside so they could argue and fight about whatever. Ah well. I didn't see Eric afterward, but I heard that he looked as if he'd been beaten by Somalian solders and dragged through the city.
Eric and Jens used to work where I work now, so we had a nice long bitch session, followed by compare and contrast, and perhaps best summarized by this thought: no matter where you go, no matter where you work, some people will be complete and utter morons. So make the best of it and keep smiling. Very philosophical. And then everyone got really hammered.
And to top it all off, today is German Reunification day - the Fourth of July for Germany - and a day off. Yes! And I poked my head out of the window to verify that indeed, the sun is shining and all is well with the world. I'm going to meet some folks from the JvM Berlin office and check out this big fat (and by the looks of the website, pink) contemporary art show extravaganza that I think is taking place near my hotel.
How international is this city? Just look at our table: one American, one Norwegian, one Swede, two Swiss, three Germans (one half Egyptian) and a lovely Dane. It would have been four Germans when Eric's girlfriend arrived, but instead of coming inside to eat, drink, and be marry, she stayed outside so they could argue and fight about whatever. Ah well. I didn't see Eric afterward, but I heard that he looked as if he'd been beaten by Somalian solders and dragged through the city.
Eric and Jens used to work where I work now, so we had a nice long bitch session, followed by compare and contrast, and perhaps best summarized by this thought: no matter where you go, no matter where you work, some people will be complete and utter morons. So make the best of it and keep smiling. Very philosophical. And then everyone got really hammered.
And to top it all off, today is German Reunification day - the Fourth of July for Germany - and a day off. Yes! And I poked my head out of the window to verify that indeed, the sun is shining and all is well with the world. I'm going to meet some folks from the JvM Berlin office and check out this big fat (and by the looks of the website, pink) contemporary art show extravaganza that I think is taking place near my hotel.
Monday, October 01, 2007
I think I'm turning German.
I'm on a train to Berlin right now - it's the third time in just over a week that I've gone someplace far away by train. The first time was Frankfurt for the car show, and the second time was the following Monday morning when I went to Berlin the first time.
But the most JvM thing ever happened on that trip. Friday evening I got word that I was going to Berlin on Monday because the Berlin office needed an English speaking writer (that's me). So we panicked a bit, then figured out tickets and times and places, and then I went to Frankfurt for the car show. Monday morning I would meet Sebastian, account planner extraordinaire, at the train station and we would head to Berlin together. He'd do the briefing, and I'd stay and work for the week.
We met at Central Station at 7:45am, got our tickets and sat down (more on the sitting down part in a minute). The Hamburg to Berlin express train does it's thing in an hour and forty five minutes. And half way through, as Sebastian was telling me all about the brief, he got a phone call. The trip was cancelled, the meeting was cancelled, me working there all week long was cancelled, all as we hurtled towards Berlin at 250 km/h. Apparently they were busy with something, don't come in, we have no time for you, go back home, thanks anyways, bye.
The thing about an express train is, it doesn't stop. So we went to Berlin. I was all for taking a few hours off and having a fun day (they've got a zoo!) but Sebastian really needed to get back to the office and get some work done. We asked information when the next train back to Hamburg was. There was a train leaving in ten minutes, but we decided that that would be absurd. So we signed up for the train fifteen minutes after that. So last week I was in Berlin for twenty six minutes. And had a meeting at over 200 km/h.
Anyways, the whole point of this is that I think I'm turning German. As I walked down the aisle of the train looking for my seat this morning, it occurred to me that on the last two trips I took, both times we had reserved seats, but we didn't sit in them. And that for a few seconds each time, it really got my goat.
See, the deal is that when you book a train ticket, reserving a seat is optional, and like two Euros extra. Then you board the train and each pair of seats has a little digital display above them. If the label says something like "Hamburg-Berlin", that means it's reserved from Hamburg to Berlin. If the label is blank, the seat is free and anyone can sit there. On an early morning (yaaaaaaaaawn) train like the ones I've been taking (cheap!), there are always plenty of seats free. But on a busy every-body-commutes-home-at-that-time train it's a good idea to reserve a seat so you don't end up sitting in the aisle. So I always book a seat, because it's practically free, and I like the peace of mind, and fuck it, the company is paying. And when I train it all by my lonesome, I dutifully find my reserved seat, and I sit in it because that's the way it works, right?
Well, apparently not. The last two times I've been on early trains with Germans (okay, Julia is Austrian, but close enough), we've boarded the train and then the German says "Oh whatever, let's just sit here" all willy nilly like. WELL! How un-German is that? Both Julia and Sebastian are perfectly respectable people, so this came right outta left field. Up is down and soft is prickly and nothing is right when the Germans are shunning their assigned seats. And each time I had a microscopic panic attack as I visualized two seats with our names on it just sitting there, empty, while we took up two unreserved seats. That's FOUR WASTED EUROS and TWO WASTED SEATS! The universe falls out of balance and an adorable baby seal PLUMMETS off the edge of the planet into an abyss of burning fire. That is just not right. Around here, you can get deported for shit like that.
So when I return to The States, I'm sure I'm going to have to be broken of my newfound Germanic ways and re-integrated back into society. Or maybe I should just fly RyanAir a few times because it's one of the only airlines on the planet that (gasp!) doesn't have assigned seating. So when they open the doors, everyone RUSHES ON BOARD as if they're trying to find the one seat that hasn't been peed on by a crackhead. Now that's American.
But the most JvM thing ever happened on that trip. Friday evening I got word that I was going to Berlin on Monday because the Berlin office needed an English speaking writer (that's me). So we panicked a bit, then figured out tickets and times and places, and then I went to Frankfurt for the car show. Monday morning I would meet Sebastian, account planner extraordinaire, at the train station and we would head to Berlin together. He'd do the briefing, and I'd stay and work for the week.
We met at Central Station at 7:45am, got our tickets and sat down (more on the sitting down part in a minute). The Hamburg to Berlin express train does it's thing in an hour and forty five minutes. And half way through, as Sebastian was telling me all about the brief, he got a phone call. The trip was cancelled, the meeting was cancelled, me working there all week long was cancelled, all as we hurtled towards Berlin at 250 km/h. Apparently they were busy with something, don't come in, we have no time for you, go back home, thanks anyways, bye.
The thing about an express train is, it doesn't stop. So we went to Berlin. I was all for taking a few hours off and having a fun day (they've got a zoo!) but Sebastian really needed to get back to the office and get some work done. We asked information when the next train back to Hamburg was. There was a train leaving in ten minutes, but we decided that that would be absurd. So we signed up for the train fifteen minutes after that. So last week I was in Berlin for twenty six minutes. And had a meeting at over 200 km/h.
Anyways, the whole point of this is that I think I'm turning German. As I walked down the aisle of the train looking for my seat this morning, it occurred to me that on the last two trips I took, both times we had reserved seats, but we didn't sit in them. And that for a few seconds each time, it really got my goat.
See, the deal is that when you book a train ticket, reserving a seat is optional, and like two Euros extra. Then you board the train and each pair of seats has a little digital display above them. If the label says something like "Hamburg-Berlin", that means it's reserved from Hamburg to Berlin. If the label is blank, the seat is free and anyone can sit there. On an early morning (yaaaaaaaaawn) train like the ones I've been taking (cheap!), there are always plenty of seats free. But on a busy every-body-commutes-home-at-that-time train it's a good idea to reserve a seat so you don't end up sitting in the aisle. So I always book a seat, because it's practically free, and I like the peace of mind, and fuck it, the company is paying. And when I train it all by my lonesome, I dutifully find my reserved seat, and I sit in it because that's the way it works, right?
Well, apparently not. The last two times I've been on early trains with Germans (okay, Julia is Austrian, but close enough), we've boarded the train and then the German says "Oh whatever, let's just sit here" all willy nilly like. WELL! How un-German is that? Both Julia and Sebastian are perfectly respectable people, so this came right outta left field. Up is down and soft is prickly and nothing is right when the Germans are shunning their assigned seats. And each time I had a microscopic panic attack as I visualized two seats with our names on it just sitting there, empty, while we took up two unreserved seats. That's FOUR WASTED EUROS and TWO WASTED SEATS! The universe falls out of balance and an adorable baby seal PLUMMETS off the edge of the planet into an abyss of burning fire. That is just not right. Around here, you can get deported for shit like that.
So when I return to The States, I'm sure I'm going to have to be broken of my newfound Germanic ways and re-integrated back into society. Or maybe I should just fly RyanAir a few times because it's one of the only airlines on the planet that (gasp!) doesn't have assigned seating. So when they open the doors, everyone RUSHES ON BOARD as if they're trying to find the one seat that hasn't been peed on by a crackhead. Now that's American.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
IAA Afterglow.
Last weekend I did something I've always wanted to do - I went to the Frankfurt Auto Show. As a car guy, it's on of the Meccas of the industry since (I think) it's the biggest show in the world.
Coworker and Austrian princess Julia and I hopped on an ICE train (the coolest, fastest, Star Trekkiest trains in the country) at 6 in the damn morning, and zoomed to Frankfurt where we met up with her boyfriend Michi (that's how the Euros shorten 'Michael'). Frankfurt is kinda lame - bad coffee, not much action, a lot of suits - but we managed to have a good morning. We met up with Boris, my new favorite Bulgarian, and dove into the show.
I'm used to the SF auto show which, if I remember correctly, fills up two and and a half halls of Moscone center. There are big booths from manufacturers like Mercedes that feature all the cars, some on rotating stands, a few girls with microphones, and a desk with marketing material. The Mercedes "booth" at IAA was an entire hall unto itself, maybe half the size of one hall at Moscone. It was two floors with a giant hole in the middle of the second floor so you could see down onto the first floor. The lighting, projections, and screens were straight out of a U2 concert, and they had a counter on the second floor that gave out glasses of water (with and without gas). All the new cars were there, along with a few race cars, artifacts from Mercedes' history, and what looked like exhibits from the Museum of Science and Mercedes. There were probably a hundred Mercedes people working. It was incredible. And BMW had the same thing (though it was less like a U2 concert).
The Ford group had its own hall for all its brands - Volvo, Aston Martin, Jaguar, Ford, Land/Range Rover, etc. And then there were halls containing several manufacturers each. There was the mostly Italian hall (my favorite) with Maserati, Ferrari, Alfa Romeo, Lancia, Fiat and... Hyundai. Poor Hyundai! They were all the way at the end of the most crowded hall of them all. So after pushing your way through hot human oatmeal to see the most passionate cars on the planet, you had to make a decision: do I push a little more to see Hyundai? As you can imagine, it wasn't really a decision at all.
And speaking of crowded, holy shit this thing was crowded. We were foolish enough to go on a Saturday and arrive around 11am along with the rest of the planet. Volkswagen was so crowded that you couldn't actually see any of the Volkswagens. And after our first visit to the Mercedes hall, where the line to get on the escalator was twice as long as the escalator itself, we decided to take a little break and wait for things to clear out a bit.
And about six hours later, we had seen everything we needed to see. I saw the new Ferrari F430 Scuderia which is my current dream car. The Alfa Romeo 8C looks as good in real life as it does in the pictures (though it's a lot smaller than I thought it would be). I stole three of the Mercedes glasses. And in honor of countless Thanksgiving day Moscone hot dogs, I ate a genuine Frankfurter sausage.
Coworker and Austrian princess Julia and I hopped on an ICE train (the coolest, fastest, Star Trekkiest trains in the country) at 6 in the damn morning, and zoomed to Frankfurt where we met up with her boyfriend Michi (that's how the Euros shorten 'Michael'). Frankfurt is kinda lame - bad coffee, not much action, a lot of suits - but we managed to have a good morning. We met up with Boris, my new favorite Bulgarian, and dove into the show.
I'm used to the SF auto show which, if I remember correctly, fills up two and and a half halls of Moscone center. There are big booths from manufacturers like Mercedes that feature all the cars, some on rotating stands, a few girls with microphones, and a desk with marketing material. The Mercedes "booth" at IAA was an entire hall unto itself, maybe half the size of one hall at Moscone. It was two floors with a giant hole in the middle of the second floor so you could see down onto the first floor. The lighting, projections, and screens were straight out of a U2 concert, and they had a counter on the second floor that gave out glasses of water (with and without gas). All the new cars were there, along with a few race cars, artifacts from Mercedes' history, and what looked like exhibits from the Museum of Science and Mercedes. There were probably a hundred Mercedes people working. It was incredible. And BMW had the same thing (though it was less like a U2 concert).
The Ford group had its own hall for all its brands - Volvo, Aston Martin, Jaguar, Ford, Land/Range Rover, etc. And then there were halls containing several manufacturers each. There was the mostly Italian hall (my favorite) with Maserati, Ferrari, Alfa Romeo, Lancia, Fiat and... Hyundai. Poor Hyundai! They were all the way at the end of the most crowded hall of them all. So after pushing your way through hot human oatmeal to see the most passionate cars on the planet, you had to make a decision: do I push a little more to see Hyundai? As you can imagine, it wasn't really a decision at all.
And speaking of crowded, holy shit this thing was crowded. We were foolish enough to go on a Saturday and arrive around 11am along with the rest of the planet. Volkswagen was so crowded that you couldn't actually see any of the Volkswagens. And after our first visit to the Mercedes hall, where the line to get on the escalator was twice as long as the escalator itself, we decided to take a little break and wait for things to clear out a bit.
And about six hours later, we had seen everything we needed to see. I saw the new Ferrari F430 Scuderia which is my current dream car. The Alfa Romeo 8C looks as good in real life as it does in the pictures (though it's a lot smaller than I thought it would be). I stole three of the Mercedes glasses. And in honor of countless Thanksgiving day Moscone hot dogs, I ate a genuine Frankfurter sausage.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Amsterdan.
I'm in Amsterdam this weekend! Talke and I got us some plane tickets and have come to hang out with her boy toy Mathieu, who I know from ad school. It's to be back in this ADORABLE little city. It's so cute! I swear, watching the outskirts of the city pass us by on the train ride from the airport, it's like a giant plastic train set utopia. It's clean and futuristic with bright shiny colors and freshly paved roads. And as you approach Amsterdam proper, it gets older and more dense, but stays cute. All these brick buildings squooshed up against one another, and you know they've been there for a thousand years (give or take 500). Spend some time around here with your eyes open, and you'll understand Walt's thinking behind Disneyland.
The plane we flew was a Fokker 50, and by plane I mean bus with wings. That shit was small and rickety. How small was it? It was so small, I caught claustrophobia. They have to evenly distribute the fat people. The seat belt sign stayed illuminated because it's impossible to stand up. We got delayed by a stiff breeze. No kidding, that shit was tiny. But the good news is that it got us where we needed to be, and we got two prepackaged sandwiches each on the way. Now that's livin'.
On our way from Centraal station to Mathieu's place, we did a little shopping, and Mathieu uttered these words: Dude, do you want to see something that will blow your mind? It was a rhetorical question of course, so we found our way to a book shop, and went to the section selling planners for school kids. Schools here start up in September as well, so stores are littered with back to school items and such, and there were twenty different styles of planners available. You know the ones - a spot to write in your schedule, lots of room to write down your appointments, finished in bright kid colors for your kid's brightly colored kid lifestyle.
But remember, we're in Amsterdam, where sex is viewed in a slightly more progressive light than, say, all those red states where nobody masturbates. Mathieu handed me this. It's a day planner for kids called Starfucker. And I'm not making this up. It was right next to day planners with cute designs and exotic cars and sporty themes.
Money quotes:
The plane we flew was a Fokker 50, and by plane I mean bus with wings. That shit was small and rickety. How small was it? It was so small, I caught claustrophobia. They have to evenly distribute the fat people. The seat belt sign stayed illuminated because it's impossible to stand up. We got delayed by a stiff breeze. No kidding, that shit was tiny. But the good news is that it got us where we needed to be, and we got two prepackaged sandwiches each on the way. Now that's livin'.
On our way from Centraal station to Mathieu's place, we did a little shopping, and Mathieu uttered these words: Dude, do you want to see something that will blow your mind? It was a rhetorical question of course, so we found our way to a book shop, and went to the section selling planners for school kids. Schools here start up in September as well, so stores are littered with back to school items and such, and there were twenty different styles of planners available. You know the ones - a spot to write in your schedule, lots of room to write down your appointments, finished in bright kid colors for your kid's brightly colored kid lifestyle.
But remember, we're in Amsterdam, where sex is viewed in a slightly more progressive light than, say, all those red states where nobody masturbates. Mathieu handed me this. It's a day planner for kids called Starfucker. And I'm not making this up. It was right next to day planners with cute designs and exotic cars and sporty themes.
Money quotes:
Fuck me, I'm famous.A few planners over was one featuring a sexy blond woman posing in various positions with a giant sausage. Pardon my American prudishness, but this is insane. Mathieu and Talke back me up on this, and it's not like the French and the Germans are known for their skittishness when it comes to the horizontal mambo. Needless to say, I bought Starfufcker, and I'm sending it to Elizabeth Holt. If she can handle Cockolada, this should be no problemo.
VIP: Very intens penetration [sic]
I never fake orgasms
only with you
There's a new bitch in town.
Your place or right now.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
My friend Julia is funny.
Yesterday Austrian Julia said she was going to the movies in the evening. Apparently JvM does this thing where if you go to the movies on Tuesday, they'll pay for the ticket because Tuesday is "family day" at the movie theaters. Nice.
So I saw her in the kitchen this morning and I asked her what she saw. She said Die Hard four.
So I saw her in the kitchen this morning and I asked her what she saw. She said Die Hard four.
ME: How was it?That cracked my shit up.
AJ: It was very creative.
ME (surprised): Really?
AJ: Yes. I didn't know there were that many ways for a car to fly through the air.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Rant.
I'm sick of people calling Al Gore and the like hypocrites because they proselytize a low carbon footprint, but still use a lot of energy. They shout hypocrisy and sarcastically say Do as I say, not as I do, when really, they're missing the bigger point.
Yes, Al Gore travels from speech to speech in big, heavy, secure SUVs. He has no choice because a) he needs the protection and b) these overweight, inefficient cars are the only option. We let the auto corporations do whatever they want so they can maximize every cent of profit with no regard for the planet. There isn't a light weight, fuel efficient alternative that suits his needs because there's not enough incentive for auto makers to build one.
Yes, Al Gore uses three thirty inch computer monitors in his office. And the monitors he's using are a thousand times more efficient than old school alternatives.
One fabulous part about the new green movement is that it encourages technological innovation so that we don't have to make drastic lifestyle changes to protect the planet. Pissing and moaning about Al Gore isn't going to help as much as pushing companies to create and innovate.
Think seat belts and airbags. Good ideas, right? Yet the auto industry had to be dragged kicking and screaming into making those innovations happen. They whined about bottom lines and how it would kill their business, they lobbied the government until they were blue in the face. They did the same thing to keep fuel efficiency standards low, except here they were successful.
But what a load of horse shit. Here's what I say: What kind of pussy ass company are you running? Work hard and make a good product better and shut the fuck up. We should be able to drive big cars and use the computer equipment we need, and we will if these ridiculous corporations would stop whining and get to work doing what Americans do best: innovating.
Yes, Al Gore travels from speech to speech in big, heavy, secure SUVs. He has no choice because a) he needs the protection and b) these overweight, inefficient cars are the only option. We let the auto corporations do whatever they want so they can maximize every cent of profit with no regard for the planet. There isn't a light weight, fuel efficient alternative that suits his needs because there's not enough incentive for auto makers to build one.
Yes, Al Gore uses three thirty inch computer monitors in his office. And the monitors he's using are a thousand times more efficient than old school alternatives.
One fabulous part about the new green movement is that it encourages technological innovation so that we don't have to make drastic lifestyle changes to protect the planet. Pissing and moaning about Al Gore isn't going to help as much as pushing companies to create and innovate.
Think seat belts and airbags. Good ideas, right? Yet the auto industry had to be dragged kicking and screaming into making those innovations happen. They whined about bottom lines and how it would kill their business, they lobbied the government until they were blue in the face. They did the same thing to keep fuel efficiency standards low, except here they were successful.
But what a load of horse shit. Here's what I say: What kind of pussy ass company are you running? Work hard and make a good product better and shut the fuck up. We should be able to drive big cars and use the computer equipment we need, and we will if these ridiculous corporations would stop whining and get to work doing what Americans do best: innovating.
Silly
I went across the street to the other JvM building today to get the good coffee, and I got to talk to my friend The Lovely Ms. S. We did the how-was-your-weekend exchange, and when it was her turn, this is approximately what she said with a totally straight face, without missing a beat:
Anyways, the other thing I found interesting about this whole conversation was the alcoholic who wants to donate her organs. Organ donation is as noble an action as any other, but I'm sure there are health restrictions. For example, if you're a non-smoking, non-drinking athletic organic food type who spends your life meditating, massaging, and yoga-ing, then I'd imagine your organs would be more sought after than those coming out of an alcoholic, chain smoking prostitute with herpes and a bad attitude (not that The Lovely Ms. S's aunt are any of these things). But I'm sure that the number of people needing an organ far exceeds the number of donations, so it's probably a take-what-you-can-get sorta thing.
But who gets the alcoholic liver? Do you have to be an alcoholic to receive it? Does it come with instructions?
I went to visit my aunt to help her. She lost her husband a year ago, and now she's starting to die. She's an alcoholic, and we had to set up her will and sign her up to be an organ donor.It's this kind of straight forward, no bullshit rhetoric that makes me really appreciate the Germanosity of German people. I've seen this sort of thing before; it usually goes something like this:
ME: What do you think German person?Why mince words? Let's deal with reality right here and now. You go girl(s).
GERMAN PERSON: I think it totally sucks.
ME: Well okay then.
Anyways, the other thing I found interesting about this whole conversation was the alcoholic who wants to donate her organs. Organ donation is as noble an action as any other, but I'm sure there are health restrictions. For example, if you're a non-smoking, non-drinking athletic organic food type who spends your life meditating, massaging, and yoga-ing, then I'd imagine your organs would be more sought after than those coming out of an alcoholic, chain smoking prostitute with herpes and a bad attitude (not that The Lovely Ms. S's aunt are any of these things). But I'm sure that the number of people needing an organ far exceeds the number of donations, so it's probably a take-what-you-can-get sorta thing.
But who gets the alcoholic liver? Do you have to be an alcoholic to receive it? Does it come with instructions?
Care and maintenance for your new organ: Thank you for installing this high quality, second-hand human organ. Please note that due to its alcoholic nature, you'll need to drink like a fish to keep it healthy. We recommend large quantities of box wine and vodka.That would be a fun label to see hanging off of a shiny new organ. Though if I had to drink to get a liver, I think I'd prefer to kick the bucket.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Attn: Bike Nerds
This little photo tour of Koichi Yamaguchi's workshop is fantastic. I love it for the same reason I love VH1's Behind the Music - it show's you what it looks like behind the scenes.
Makes me want to jump on Spanky and ride away... in fact, I think I will! The weather is perfect today - sunny and still. FINALLY, after a month or two of constant rainy and gray. We all thought summer would never come. Now hopefully it'll last a few weeks... Like, say, though September.
Makes me want to jump on Spanky and ride away... in fact, I think I will! The weather is perfect today - sunny and still. FINALLY, after a month or two of constant rainy and gray. We all thought summer would never come. Now hopefully it'll last a few weeks... Like, say, though September.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Reality Distortion Field
With no iPhone here in Europe (rumors are T-Mobile will be the carrier, and it'll be here Octoberish), I have to live my geeky fantasies vicariously through others via the internet. I was just reading an article by Farhad Manjoo, a techy writer living in the Bay Area who's written some great stuff for Wired and Salon, among others, and this one thing really jumped out at me...
Hamburg is one of the richest cities in Germany, and generally considered quite expensive. For a room in a two bedroom apartment, I pay €355 (about $500) per month, and that includes all utilities. When I lived in San Francicso, a similar sized room (granted, it had a big closet with mirror doors - fancy!) was $700 plus utilities. Poor Farhad is paying $1200. It's a fabulous city, but that's a lot of rent. To think that you could buy two iPhones per month... well, it's the rent that makes me queasy, not the iPhone.
And one more thing: It's $600! I'm not used to treating my cellphone with much respect. I throw it in my bag, I flash it around in public, I don't think twice about slipping it in the security tray when I'm going through the airport. The iPhone alters that calculus of risk. When the thing in your pocket is worth half a month's rent, you feel yourself constantly on alert.Holy crap is SF expensive! When six hundred bones only gets you about two weeks of living, you know you're living in the whacky reality distortion field that is the Bay Area That and the live show at Trannyshack. Rim job on stage? Why wouldn't you?
Hamburg is one of the richest cities in Germany, and generally considered quite expensive. For a room in a two bedroom apartment, I pay €355 (about $500) per month, and that includes all utilities. When I lived in San Francicso, a similar sized room (granted, it had a big closet with mirror doors - fancy!) was $700 plus utilities. Poor Farhad is paying $1200. It's a fabulous city, but that's a lot of rent. To think that you could buy two iPhones per month... well, it's the rent that makes me queasy, not the iPhone.
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