Die, Dustmite! Die, Die, Die!

Oh, I have known this all my life. Cannot wait to tell Ma Mimmelitt that Dustmites are killed off by those who never make their bed. Okay, so maybe I phrased it a tiny bit radical, but that's essentially what this article says, isn't it? By not making my bed, I have most probably saved myself from a potentially fatal allergy. I am my own hero! I should get a prize.

Oh right, before I discovered this life altering article, I meant to update on my DVD non-Date. It was nice. I laughed, I ate Olives, I told him he snores. He fiercely rejected that claim. Guess he's not the right one then!

Bedtime for me. Alone, thank you very much!

Am I late enough?

This is not going to end well. I just know it. Meeting at 10 pm to watch a DVD. No! No no no no no, it's NOT a date. Don't even think about arguing this point in your countless comments, all you 5,000 imaginary readers. It's just simple DVD watching... No more!

I have decided to take the car. That means some shoveling, but it also prevents any over-indulging (in alcohol, that is!). Now you see that not being at work gives me time to think about stuff I shouldn't be thinking about. Hello, Controlfreak Persona, how was your short nap?

Oh yeah, and Christmas is over. How did that happen? It always sneaks up on me and then it sneaks off equally fast and quiet.

It's just like Winter! It seems that every single year around December (give or take a month or so) there's a suprise appearance by .... snow! Even CNN.com reports it. Admittedly, this doesn't mean much as they have taken to reporting on celebrity breakups and other important political events on their main page lately. In any way, Europe is up in arms about the evil snow sneaking up on us once again. Maybe it's just the aforementioned control freak in me that is aware of the season and even somehow prepared to see cold weather including ... yes, Sir! ... lots of snow! Who needs International Terrorism when that cold white stuff can attack us out of the blue every single year at roughly the same time and we still act surprised? Sheesh!

I'm off to shovel the snow from the car.

Silly Stuff, Cold Stuff, and Caffeinated Stuff

Oh man, I really need to get that job application to Google. Wonder whether their Marketing Department also does this kind of stuff at work. Silly Putty! I looooove Silly Putty. That reminds me... I used to have four different kinds of that stuff somewhere around here. It was all I bought at the Crayola Factory years ago. (yes, I was being pointed and laughed at at that time! Little did they know that even the Google Geeks ... er ... employees liked Silly Putty) Now I suspect one of my cousins stole my Silly Putty. This calls for a thorough investigation, but not right now. I am still snowed in anyway.

According to the current color of the sky, I don't think the snowing will stop anytime soon. As per the request of 5,000 imaginary readers of this blog, I will post a couple of pictures which are equally crappy as the two I posted before. It's just that I really like bad, blurry or insufficently lit pictures. It's a passion!


All pics were taken from windows.

Off to have some coffee. Snowpictures make me sleepy.

Dashing Through The Snow

Can you actually dash through snow? Not counting any dashing aided by skis or other such little helpers. I don't think you can. Convince me otherwise by sending me video footage of you dashing through the snow! ... You know, be a real - what do they call them nowadays - 'citizen journalist'! (I love that term. Anyone with a crappy cellphone cam can be a journalist now! Wow! Well, it might be more credible than those real journalists 'embedded' in army units. Who are they actually kidding? But I digress...)

Yes, to answer that silent question you have been asking yourself all through the first paragraph - I still tell myself this isn't only read by me - there actually is a point to this post. It's to show you some really crappy pics. I'm the master of that. It's blurry-nism. The reason for that is a lack of a tripod and some impulsive urge to take pictures when the light is rather bad, not alcohol as you probably silently suspected.

First is the Christmas Bush sans cat. Needed to take a pic now as the cat seems to have a disastrous addiction to those twigs. My prediction is that it'll be gone by New Year's. The CB, not the cat. Nice kitty food!


Next pic is a VERY blurry one out of my window right now. See anyone dashing through the snow? I don't!


I thought there were more, but there aren't. I'm back to listening to more sentimental Christmas music. Maybe I'll eat some chips, cry a bit and then watch It's a Wonderful Life.

It's Christmas Eve ... the Tree's Up! Do You Know Where Your Cat Is?

We don't have a Christmas Tree. We should have one, being from the country that is allegedly to blame for half the world putting the whole forest in their living room around X-mas. Instead, we have what I like to call a Christmas Bush (not to be confused with a tinsel-wearing George W.!). Apart from the Christmas Bush, we also own a cat (or rather the cat owns us). His favorite place is right under the CB.

Now, cats are funny people. All through the year, they like to hide the fact that they nibble on all the plants around the apartment. As soon as Christmas comes along, they openly show their addiction to green stuff. All our cat does all day is to sleep under the CB and eat from it whenever he wakes up. He then proceeds to throw up allover the place.

He won't let me chase him away from our CB. I would in fact need a BBGun which, in my opinion, would be rather drastic. I guess I'll try to give him an extra treat tomorrow. It's Christmas, after all!

Happy Holidays to you, whether you're Man, Woman, Child, or Cat .... and maybe even a Dog!

You Too Can Be An Idiot!

To quote the almighty Dr. Evil:

Why must I be surrounded by friggin' idiots?

No. No new SIA stories and rants. The internship is over and I have already finished my joyful hours of happydancing. -After I took the medication, it suddenly didn't appear to be as danceworthy anymore

However, there's plenty of other idiots. Sure, there might be people who think I am a moron, too. At least I don't argue with my boyfriend/husband/weird elderly creep who I call my aquintance but who is really my secret oldfatguy-fetish-satisfation (okay, I grossed myself out with that one) ... where was I? Yeah, I don't argue with... someone else across the whole supermarket. The topic: canned soup The overall theme of this particular argument: Is there caraway seed in the canned Lentil Soup? Now, some might find this is the Ultimate Question about Life, Universe and Everything. (it's not, I checked: Is there Caraway Seed in the Lentil Soup? - 42 ... Doesn't work!) Others might simply hate Lentil Soup. I, for one, merely tried to concentrate on which sandwich would be Sandwich du jour on this stormy Friday afternoon. Impossible with two people "entertaining" a whole supermarket with their faulty grammar and screeching voices. For half a minute I did muse about the probability of their bodies never being found buried in the mostly ignored bags of frozen Brussel Sprouts.

They ended up buying Potato Soup which definitely does have caraway seed in it. Perverts! But, seriously, where's the Soup Nazi when you need him?

No Soup For You!

Ego Boosts and Bitchslapping Fantasies

You see, I'll take any ego boost I can get - even when it's a Which-Video-Are-You-? Quiz. Check out this:

Take the Which Madonna Video Are You Quiz.

You're more intelligent than 90% of the people you interact with. Academic and witty, you are an avid reader and thinker. You are artsy-fartsy and creative, and you have been or will be deeply inspired by the book, "Memoirs of a Geisha" and are fascinated with oriental culture and history. Many write you off as a geek, but don't listen to them. You have trouble relating to the "club-scene" and want a partner who's interested by the same topics as you. And remember: love is all we need.

Can I get a "Yeeehaw"? Okay, so I'm not actually too interested in what they call "oriental" culture. Not more than I am interested in other cultures. Let's just pretend for a little while longer, though! I really do like the part about being more intelligent than 90% of the people I interact with. I should have known that in college when I sat in a room with a whole bunch of profs, interacting with them.

On a different note: Stupid Intern Ass (SIA) from work is currently not working. The wimp fell off his bike and hurt his poor little hand. I'm pretty sure he fell asleep biking.

It doesn't happen often that I dislike people, but I do dislike SIA. I stopped giving him the benefit of "hasn't had a chance to prove himself okay yet and might just be nervous to be in a new job" after the second time he muttered crap. Shouldn't it give you a hint when your co-workers suddenly go to the bathroom much more frequently.... Just to scream! I was looking forward to bitchslapping him on his last day of work. The bastard must have sensed my cunning plan. He weaseled his way out of it. Dammit! Falling off a bike! Ha!

Sometimes I Love Being Miserable ... and I'm Batman!

My close friend Will S. once claimed that "In Time We Hate That Which We Often Fear" Well, Willy, pal, then here's a list of the things I truly fear today:

• The cat's hair in my wine
• The fact that I haven't received my paycheck yet and Christmas is getting dangerously close
• Someone - let's give him a random name - Jerk deciding to be just that today
• Getting up in the middle of the night - okay, it was 6:30 am, but "middle of the night" is always defined by personal perception
• Da peeps hoo rite lik dis in da blog an lik wan u 2 think dere ghetto
• Stupid Intern ass at work
• Gimp W B
• People who don't get how damn funny I am
  
• People who think they're the best thing since sliced bread ... then again....
  
• bread, particularly sliced bread
• people who are confused
• People who make lists out of boredom

Gosh, I hate myself today. Well, not really, but I haven't had a healthy dose of teenage angst in a while. Probably 'cause I am way past my teenage years. A fact which I like to ignore from time to time. So I'll dye my hair purple again and wear those grunge clothes I so loved in the Heyday of one Kurt Cobain (some of you might have heard of him).... Yes, I hate myself and I wanna die! Does that make me more popular? (I might sneak a peek at my visitor counter later)

Homer, another buddy of mine, once argued that "There's a Time For Many Words, And There Is Also A Time For Sleep" And who am I to argue with a Greek guy?

Rant-O-Rama

'Nother rant. I'm quite annoyable today. So, well, let's just say: Talk to the Hand! to certain people.

Instant Messengers are weird things. They're usually fun, but they can get really annoying as soon as you accidentally log in although you really didn't want to talk to anyone. And then there's those times when you talk to someone you do like but who also really annoys you a LOT at times. Let's not define the actual relationship too closely as I tend to panic when thinking too much!

I used to love my messengers. They let me talk to all my friends from around the world. It always had this weird stalker quality to it, but it was mostly useful. For me, it starts getting weird with those people who live close by. Those you see regularly. And, of course, those whose relationship with you you have either

• not analyzed enough yet
• really, really overanalyzed

There's this schizophrenic urge to slap and at the same time hug them. Driven by the rather antagonistic circumstances of being apart, but able to directly communicate, you write stuff you'd never say during a personal meeting. It's somewhere between a letter or an e-mail and a phonecall. I hate what that can result in. Well, mostly it's pure annoyance in my case. Or maybe I just shouldn't open my instant messengers anymore... I'll just go, listen to the Real Mimmelitt's wisdom and afterwards enjoy some Robbie stuff. Yes, I actually found my "Escapology" CD and it's currently being played to death along with "Intensive Care" and Katie Melua Songs. *melts*

Sometimes Streets Cannot Be Long Enough

Major Rant:
I talk a lot. Really! But I can also see when someone gets really bored. That is when I usually stop talking. Now, why? Why on earth are there people who are total losers (in my humble opinion, which, of course, is rather irrelevant), but think they are the cream of the crop? What is it about people that makes me want to tell them to shut the f*ck up, then run to my car, jump in and drive as far as I can at top speed?

Maybe I'm silly to think that you should at least know a tiny little bit about stuff before you lecture others about it. Yeah, I can be naive sometimes.

There is nothing I hate more than radical idiots who have no idea about anything, but seem to have strong opinions about it. Ignorant assholes! They are there on both ends of the opinion spectrum. I'm forced to work with this guy who is an "author", an "artist", a "politician", a "director" (this one made me laugh particularly hard), and a "media designer" (among other things). He also has no clue about anything. He lets loose the most ridiculous clichés about one country and in the next sentence complains about those "stupid" people who have cliched opinions about Germany. WTF? Get yourself some f*cking books and brush up on your general knowledge! Maybe do some thinking while you're at it! There's really hardly anyone worse than people who can't think for themselves, but are convinced they are the only ones absolutely right about anything. Keepers of the only truth. .... Someone make this person drop out of his internship, because I will soon be ready to strangle him!

/End of Rant .... This doesn't make sense to anyone, but me.

Candy, Coals, and Oranges

When I was a little kid - well, up until I was around 22 - I was terrified of St. Nicholas. You see, where I come from, he's supposed to sneak around town the night from Dec. 5th to 6th and put either coal or chocolate, oranges, and candy - depending on the children's individual adjustment to general disciplinary standards - in the shoes of the kids. Well, my parents decided to give their children at least one huge trauma by getting Mr. Nicholas to actually visit us. Yes, that means he appeared in person. And whoever they put into that costume each single year, they were all sadists. Starting December 1st, I thought of ways to escape the old guy's visit. He would make us recite poems and he gave us candy and little gifts, and between those two things, he was just plain mean. He yelled and yelled and knew every little stupid thing we had done throughout the whole year.

One year, my sister and I hid under a bed. They found us. I'm sure it endlessly amused everyone involved but us. The worst is: I think it's funny now that I think about it, but then, it was just like those poor kids running from Freddy Krueger. If I remember correctly, St. Nicholaus also used to have those knives as fingers .... Or maybe the warm light of the Christmas lights just made it seem that way, I don't know.

I never got coals. But damn did I get closer to therapy every year. The guy got me to brush my teeth regularly, though. Try that, Easterbunny!

Hello World ... and what's with that name?

No one expects "Dear Diary" posts in blogs anymore, right? Lifestories are for my other blogs. I wonder whether I should have blinking pink hearts that rain down from the top to the bottom of my screen here. Oh wait, it's not yet time to talk about my addiction to blinking pink hearts and Barbie paraphernalia (Hello, Spell Check! Awake now?). Mental Illness talk is scheduled later in the blog.

Though Mental Illness is usually a good topic; How about this: What's with that name, Mimmelitt? Above is Mimmelitt, the coolest rabbit east of the Mississippi ... or something like that. You don't know him, you'll never be cool enough for me.

Oh vast philosophical desert that is coolness. I was never supposed to be a part of the great philosophers of our time (or the future, what ever it may be). My Russian teacher, the Oracle of Room 312, foretold me this in 11th Grade, and who am I not to believe him? Moving on from this look into my future, I learned to live with the thought of living a life as shallow as can be. In fact, my biggest problem at this very moment is where the hell I put my "Escapology" CD. I haven't listened to it in about 6 months, but I don't think I will be able to live without hearing "Sexed Up" in the next twenty seconds.

So shallow I'll be .... if only to honor my Russian Teacher.