Teshik's Blog

Drinking Game: Stargate Atlantis

2010-09-18T17:31:00.004+02:00

So, I've just watched the entire series. So much for "I'll only watch an episode or so" a while back.

Although the series is good, the Television Without Pity education rears its snarky head every time I watch a series by now. Which inevitably leads to me discovering certain, amusing, patterns. Thus, the drinking game. No, I don't drink. It's still funny. So, without further ado:

Spoilers for the series, DUH!

Drink a shot everytime:

the Atlantis crew dooms the entire galaxy by their stupidity or to save their few piddling people
Rodney shows his massive ego
Rodney's ego is causing shit to explode
Ford has a line
Ford's line could be cut entirely, and nobody would notice
the team is waking up in a Wraith holding cell
Weir: "I cannot allow that to happen."
the Athosians and/or Teyla are accused of something
the Athosians and/or Teyla are proven totally innocent later
Rodney hacks into a computer/network/replicator/whatever
Rodney: "j-just---give me a minute!!"
Rodney: "W-wh-wh-whoa-whoa-wait!!"
Rodney states something is utterly impossible in a given time frame
double if he achieves it anyways
there is an explosion in the control room
Teyla: "blah blah - my people!"
Teyla has nightmares
Teyla and Wraith mind-control each other
Teyla is left in charge, even though there should be a coordinated command structure
the A plot is caused by someone blundering into yet another secret lab of the Ancients
the danger in the A plot is entirely Rodney's fault
Ronon uses his gun
double if it's in the nick of time, just as a team member's about to get killed
Ronon is captured or kidnapped, and miraculously gets his gun back afterwards
Sheppard is totally ignoring his orders
double if Weir secretly couldn't care less
Teyla is blatantly running around with her offspring, just to show that the brat's hasn't been eaten by dingos yet
the team temporarily allies with the Wraith
the team is totally surprised when the evil zombie vampire aliens who eat humans decide to screw them over
double shot if Todd's doing the allying and screwing over
the Pegasus Nazis - pardon, Genii - make an appearance
double if Kolya's involved
triple if Sheppard swears he's going to kill him next time for sure
Mr Woolsey is inept
Mr Woolsey is socially inept
Rodney is socially inept, but gets what he wants anyway
the gal of the episode is totally into Sheppard
double if he's oblivious until it's pointed out
a Stargate SG-1 member appears
double if the SG-1 member is at odds with his Atlantis counterpart
triple if they value each other by the end of the episode
if SG-1 already encountered the same (plot) device previously
nobody in the goddamn stargate universe remembers that Earth has zillions of livestock animals that could be used to feed the goddamn Wraith

Enjoy. All over-intoxications, hangovers and/or waking up next to strangers will be your own damn fault, however.

Language musings

2010-09-11T13:14:00.006+02:00

My work is stressful. Usually, when I get home, the first thing on my mind is "everything but thinking". Which invariably ends with me parking my ass on the couch to watch the telly.

It seems, last friday, my brain did not appreciate this kind of "switch brain on, switch brain off" behaviour. Plus, the stuff in the tv was even more brain-cell-killing than usual, so I guess my brain started working in pure self-defense.

It started off as one of those musings about "yeah. I wanna learn new languages someday." You know, one of these half-assed things you tell yourself you'll do once you have "the time", "the money"? Like rock climbing, doing sports, calling your great-aunt? Yeah, if you're anything like me, you'll never do any of those things.

I lazily surfed the web for some good vocabulary trainer. byki seemed like a good idea, what with the shared lists and stuff. Then I found Rosetta Stone software, which I found awesome - until I saw the price tag attached, that is. Because as much as I like to learn Spanish in a very natural way, I'm not paying 699 US $ for it. Because for 699 $, I fully expect this software not only to teach me foreign languages, but also to shine my shoes, wash my car, and do my taxes.

Conclusion: I'm either too cheap or too poor to learn languages. Plus, I'm lazy. Time to reevaluate my assets. How about a quick-and-dirty-method? You're a programmer. Not a particularly good one, but it's enough to draft together a little app to teach yourself. By combining the list idea of byki and the "learn-by-show-and-tell", and some easy vocabulary lists, some stuff that means the same in every language. Can't be THAT hard.

Yeah, that's the point where the linguists in my readership probably burst out laughing. You know, if there actually were linguists in my readership. Or if I HAD a readership, but anyway.

The thing is, I wanted some basics, to make yourself comprehensible in a foreign country, a kind of Pidgin, if you will. For example, "[Ich-sehen-rot-Auto-vorn-links]" (=[I-see-red-car-front-left]) is not correct German, since you lose all the conjugations and stuff (It would be something like "Ich sehe ein rotes Auto (da) vorne links"), but people would be at least able to communicate simple concepts, such as "Can you point me to the airport", or "help, I need to find a police officer!". Or at the very least, "Where's the bathroom?" - because, do you really wanna take a dump in the middle of the Champs-Élysées just because you can't figure out how to get people to point at the nearest loo? I mean, tourists have a bad enough image as it is.

The problems, however, start at the very core of the language, with such as words as "to be". Because, "I am in the garden"/[I-be-in-garden] translates easily into German as "Ich bin im Garten"/[Ich-sein-in-Garten].
But: "yo soy en el jardin"/[yo-ser-in-jardin] won't work, since to a native spanish this would imply "I am the garden." So unless you don't want some Spanish to think you're trying to invent a new verse to a certain Simon & Garfunkel song, you have to use the correct verb "estar".

So, essentially, to get a list of common simple words that won't have a double meaning. Well, that's a necessary database approach. This bloats your entries however. Plus, you lose stuff, since if you don't learn that "be" means both "estar" and "ser", you won't use it, and get confused if the natives do. So you'd need links. This all combined with the original idea of using simple pictograms so you'll learn the word naturally instead of simply translating it. And this is not even counting pitfalls like double meaning or false friends....This might need a teensy bit more work than I thought it would.

Meh. Now my head hurts. See, kids? This is what thinking will get you.

Procrastination Alert: Stargate Atlantis

2010-05-12T18:26:00.000+02:00

I have many, many things to do. But, at the moment, I'm not in the mood to do any of them. And in order to avoid a "Teshik finally snaps and finds himself a cosy clocktower" mishap, I took out a DVD I hadn't watched since I bought it two years ago, Stargate: Atlantis, Season 1. Back then, I just kinda forgot I had said DVD set, mostly because the series start was kinda meh (as are most series', before they find the right tone) and the German dub wasn't helping matters. So I watched the pilot again, this time in English, and because I want to tear my mind away from semantic webs and knowledge representation, I'll write a recap about it now.

If you haven't seen it by now, watch out for spoilers below, because DUH! But considering the series came out in 2005 or even earlier, you probably know more about those characters and stories as I do. Think of it as a TwoP-recap, or probably, a not-so-good facsimile thereof (Dear Sars: Please don't sue me. Also: something or other about imitation and flattery and shit.)

So: we start out with a Whoosh of a little alien shuttle over a giant ice landscape, which reaches a giant star-shaped city. According to the caption, the city is called "Several million years ago". Good to know they don't want viewers who haven't watched SG-1 knowing where the hell the context is.
Down in Several-Million-Years-Ago City central, a man and a woman stare at each other INTENSELY. I wonder if this would be explained if I'd've watched SG-1 Season 9 and 10, which I haven't yet. Partly because: if I watch an ep of SG:A, I watch an episode. If I start watching the remaining eps of SG-1, I wake up weeks later, because I watched the entire series.
Anyway, after the man breaks the STARE and leaves, the woman (who I kind of think is going to be the Ancient lady SG-1 dug out of the Antarctic snow and revived with oh-so-convenient aphasia a while back) stares at him as if he will never come back. Seems like that, since he takes the entire friggin' city up in the air and leaves (cool shot, by the way). Will they see each other again? I mean, they are two important characters, right? And more importantly, where exactly do you find a large enough parking space for a city?

Guess not. We're now in Antarctica, present day, and there's a science station reaching far underground. The international and ethnically represented science crew (read: there is at least one black person in establishing group shots, and probably some asians), Dr. Weir, our intrepid heroine starship captain, pardon, leader of the Atlantis mission, passes around an Indian (maybe?) guy investigating a dog-sized booger...sperm...tentacle thing that will be important in a few seconds, and heads towards two guys bickering over a chair like some old married couple. One of them has one of those Scotty-accents, which to my non-native ear sounds as if someone takes the vowels in normal english speech, and twists them at a 45 degree angle. That's our medical guy, Beckett, and he's miffed about having to sit in the chair all the time. Since that thing isn't cushioned, and we're talking about a mostly metal chair in an Antarctic underground base where it's probably freezing, I empathize. Frozen tongues against a pole are one thing. Your frozen nuts on a chair? Quite another.
As his canadian husband explains, this is because he has some genetic anomaly that allows him to access Ancient technology, so if they want to study it, he has to sit in it, as Canadian Guy (Rodney McKay) was born with run of the mill homo sapien genes. Poor man. There's some teasing around that genetic fact, but thankfully Dr. Jackson (current status: not dead, but it's still early) interrupts them to tell them where Atlantis is. You see, they've searched Stargate combinations in this galaxy so far, but it seems the Ancients really wanted to get out of the neighbourhood, which means : different galaxy.

McKay is ordering his man-wife to the chair again, who's all "I'm a doctor, not a chair-sitter" in this accent of his. The good news? He gets the chair glowy. The bad news? That booger-tentacle thing goes glowy too, but this wrecks some expensive equipment before zooming to the surface.

Meanwhile, O'Neill and a pilot called John Shepherd are flying across the antarctic with a helicopter with strained small-talk. I'm rechristening Mr. Shepherd "Mr. DeeDee" here, by the way, because of reasons soon becoming obvious. Both are getting a real topic to talk about when they get word that Booger Thing is heading right for them, and they should land ASAP. Too late though, and evasive flying along the Canadian, err, I mean Antarctic mountains occurs.

"Ah tœld yer Ah was the wrang perrsann" Becket whines. Weir orders him to concentrate on shutting off the weapon, like, good they have her because they won't think of that on their own. I already pity the galaxy they end up in.

More dramatic flying. Finally they lose the thing for a few seconds enough to land and shut down the engines, but the thing goes after them, they jump out - and the booger titters out exactly one feet before O'Neill. (In Beckett's words: "Ah thænk Ah dæddeitt!?"). DeeDee is all "what the hell just happened?", but O'Neill is all like "Yeah, giant alien boogers trying to kill me. Must be Tuesday."

Token Black Semi-Regular Without Character Or Backstory reports the guys safety. Hi Token! Bye Token! Jack and Daniel meet up soon after, while letting DeeDee roam freely in the ÜberSuperSecretSpaceBase, like: Security concerns, anyone? You'd think a goverment organization who deals with mind-controlling aliens would have thought about some procedures in order to limit exposure, or if they're cleared, as Jack does with a handwave, to limit the culture shock and the "Ooh, can I touch the dangerous radioactive substance"-problems. And you'd think wrong. Maybe it's just their kind of social Darwinism approach. "If yer too stupid, you die - or yer Daniel Jackson, then you'll be back after awhile anyway." The SG-1 mains leave, and DeeDee stands in the middle of gawking background scientists. You see, they have the impression that DeeDee is not so bright. I share that impression.
Why, you ask? Because while Daniel briefs Jack on the whole "I'm sorry Mario, but your Lost City is in another galaxy" part, DeeDee wanders with such a purpose towards the Chair Controlling The Giant Death Boogers that I'm surprised I can't actually hear the Dexter theme song. Of course they need him to show he's genetically speshul, but this is just dumb.
DeeDee growls at Beckett, who whines like the man-wife he is, but he's the one guy who's smart enough to ask him for security clearance, so, points to Beckett. After Ancient Whooooo? and Stargate Whaaaa? for a bit, DeeDee sits down, and of course, he doesn't even have to think about stuff to light everything up. Whatever you do, don't think of picking your nose, DeeDee!

After that bit, Weir (the main character gal. Remember her?) wants DeeDee on the mission. Shepherd however has declined, and so it's up to Jack to pep-talk the guy, who's understandably a bit confused, what with the subterranean alien light show chairs that shoot glowing death sperm and stuff. But Jack misinterpretes "pep-talk" with "threatening to fire the guy who just saved his life if he won't go", and if I were DeeDee, that'd have been the signal to cut my losses and run. I mean, he doesn't know he's a main character, he could as well be the guy who gets eaten by zombie vampire aliens in the first episode, right? Better safe than sorry.

Ah, it's time to flesh out the characters. Weir is on the telly, telling her boytoy that actually, she's doing spacetravel and stuff, and they won't see each other for a while, because the reception from Pegasus Galaxy to Earth is less-than-stellar. (ba-dum-tch!) Her exposition monologue is intercut with our main characters (and Token Black's) good-bye waving to their respective loved ones. Boytoy wants to phone her, but she's unreachable.

Cheyenne Mountain! Establishing shot again with internationality. I mean, there's a spanish guy talking to a british guy! In Spanish! For a whole sentence! There's also a guy unable to understand some other guys, and really, when you go on a military mission, could you at least agree on one language first? Jesus, these guys are so doomed.

DeeDee obviously wasn't smart enough to stay at home, and wanders through the Bennetton commercial, I mean mission team (they also have two Russians! And a German guy! Who I bet won't ever be seen again!). Weir gives a passionate pep-talk (an actual one), saying everyone here is the smartest, and the bravest, for volunteering for this. Except for DeeDee, who was bullied into it. They only have one shot because of the immense power a GalaxyJump takes, so they send in the robot, check if there's oxygen and stuff, and everyone follows, no power to get back (they hope to find power over there, so it won't be a definite Journey Without Return, but the possibility is there).
She gives the team one last chance to pussy out, like, when in the history of TV has anyone ever done that, and they begin dialing. If you never watched Stargate, imagine one of those old analog phone with a dial wheel. only larger, and with a hole in the middle. Before they start, DeeDee shows his incredible intellect yet again by antagonizing his superior officer, like, way to go, genius, and whoosh, it opens. It's dark over there, since the Stargate on the other side is in a room. Boy, I hope they ordered the thing around a bit in some deleted scenes. Could you imagine, all those people going over there and find out the room has no exit? That would be so awkward.

Weir and Military Guy go through, Token and Deedee follow, after the former tries the latter that Stargate rides are like hell. If that's supposed to endear him to me, it's not working.

The room on the other side is huge and quite satisfyingly SciFi, which is good because they're going to spend a lot of time on that set. Along the way, they discover a) Spaceships and b) the whole city is under water. What did I tell you about not getting out? Awkward. At least the parking space riddle is solved, but the coastal neighbors complaining about the tsunamis every time you land the city would be so very annoying.
It gets better: The reason the Ancients are not here? Well, they went here, colonized a few thousand worlds, but an enemy came and conquered them all. So the Ancients drowned their own city, returning to Earth, spreading the Atlantis myth in the process, because Pegasus galaxy was obviously a Very Bad Idea. Nice to find that out NOW. This tells us a nice Woman in a Hologram, using Power like nobodys business. McKay orders that stopped, because he found out, the city is not only under water, its batteries are also almost dead and parts of the city are already flooded, more to come in a matter of days or hours, depending on the energy usage. Can they go back to Earth? Nope, wouldn't be a series if they could. But Wormholes in this galaxy are possible. So they do just that.

It's night on the first planet. They pan out and find suspicious creatures lurking in the dark - children! Shoot'em! Okay, they don't. Their dad, who has let them loose in the middle of the night, appears too, asking if DeeDee and Guys are traders. Yeah, let's go with that. The natives bring them to their village, where obviously another major character awaits, Token Alien Team Member. This one's female, and is even called Taela. Were they even trying? That's like Teal'C with boobs. She's named Teal'ca for the rest of this episode then. Teal'ca isn't much for trading, because unlike AlienDad, she knows big dangerous weapons when she sees them, and since those three are still holding them like they wanna swiss-cheese everyone, I won't blame her. In fact, in underlines she's one of the few smart people so far. DeeDee makes sure I won't forget he's stupid by blabbing about ferris wheels, so I ignore him for the moment.
The next morning, they notice a Big Honking Space City right on the other side of the lake, even though the natives live in tents. As if that wouldn't clue anyone in that this city is actually A Very Bad Idea, they want to investigate. Teal'ca warns them that the Wraith will come. The Who? Teal'ca is confused, since every single world in the galaxy knows and fears them. (Good, that means this series will probably have less "Burn The Witch" episodes if everyone knows the Gate system). And if you go to Z'Ha'Dum, you will wake the Wraith. Or something.

So, the team naturally explores the deadly ruins. Except for Token, who has to bring a status report back to Weir. Cheer up, Token, at least that means the black guy isn't the first guy to die horribly.

Weir and McKay establish if they won't evacuate, they will drown quite soon. Scene.

Teal'ca shows DeeDee a nice cave they hid in during the last Wraith season, and revealing they're not as backwards as they seem, lighting a torch with a laser-y device. There is a moment of Unresolved Sexual Tension, but quickly estinguished by exposition: Seems the Wraith are more or less the Morlocks to Teal'ca's Eloi, waiting for a time until the planets in the galaxy repopulate, then cull the herd. Nice. And true enough, three needle-ships turn up to complete the Time Machine picture, only they have teleporters beaming people up instead of drawing their victims underground. Ooh, and turns out, they can also create illusions to cause fear. Have I mentioned how doomed these people are?

They actually manage to take out one of the ships (I hope there weren't too many civilians already beamed aboard, because ouch), but Dad, Military Guy, and Teal'ca are soon whisked away.

Weir and McKay are just giving the evacuation order as DeeDee returns with Token - and the surviving villagers. This even though he knows the city is going to flood in the near future. You know, I think he may not be all that bright. But before anyone can slap sense into the guy, the shield collapses, rocks fall, and everyone dies. Kidding. The Atlantis AI seems to decide in order to save those people from drowning, it has to go back up - and so it does, spectacularly.

But even though they have balconies now to marvel at the ocean - they still have to rescue two of their regulars (at least Teal'ca is - Military guy's probably the Redshirt of the episode). Weir doesn't like the idea of barging in and sending everyone to their doom, and DeeDee predictably doesn't want to leave the one woman behind who shows cleavage on this show - oh, and Military guy too, I guess.

Meanwhile, in Morlock Central Hub, things are looking bad. The Wraith, as I've said before, are not only eeeevil aliens, but eeeevil zombie vampire aliens. Take that, Goa'ulds. They take a Random Redshirt Villager and zoom out. Both Teal'ca and MiliGuy try to assert they're the leader, but only the latter is taken serious. Teal'ca pouts - because now, she has more time to get eaten? Alien cultures are weird sometimes.

Oooh, cool part. After establishing the gate of the place the Wraith come from is floating in space, they get the little shuttles working, which can also cloak, and go after them. Zoom! Space-y!

Turns out the Zombie Alien guy isn't the leader, but a green-skinned and red-haired alien woman is. If you're thinking "Orion slave girl" right now, you're kinda right. But also very, very wrong. She establishes what we already know (they eat people), and furthermore, she can also force people to do stuff, like MiliGuy spurting out there's an Earth, and it's filled with not thousands, but Billions of nice and tasty little Homo Sapien frolicking around, waiting to get the karmic revenge on the whole eating-animals thing. Not only they are doomed, but we are now as well. That's just peachy.

DeeDee manages to find the prisoners, and by way of screaming MiliGuy, finds the Morlock Dining Room as well. Unfortunately, MiliGuy has just time to die before Deedee starts to shoot the Bad Gal. Bad Gal recovers, though, by eating MiliGuy some more, and he dies. Man, I'm so glad I didn't bother learning the characters name.
DeeDee, after being captured for a tiny bit, gets rescued by Token and skewers Bad Gal with a...thing. I dunno. It kinda glows. Bad Gal is dying, but she gets the last laugh: She's only a caretaker, and when she dies, the Wraith awaken. ALL WRAITH. So, we have established, Atlantis crew is doomed, the whole Pegasus galaxy is doomed, Earth is doomed, and by the way, the Wraith population has just risen by 100.000 per cent. Well, at least the stakes aren't too low.

By the way: I was kidding about the Zombie Vampire Aliens. Do they have to take me so seriously?

Innyway, they make it out of the ship, and towards the shuttle, although I have to say, if DeeDee is the only frickin' person who can fly the damn thing, you'd think he'd take cover and get his ass into the ship as soon as possible. Or at least, his colleagues would shove him inside for reasons of self-preservation. And yet, he stands out in the open and fires his machine gun. This is getting ridiculous. Does "Ancient Genetic Marker" actually stands as a euphemism for "mental retardation"? Maybe the Ancients just died out because they randomly wandered over the edges of cliffs.

Anyway, the Wraith have taken quite a few of their needle ships and positioned them outside the stargate. Meaning, cloak or not, as soon as the gate activates, all they have to do is shooting blindly and thus hitting DeeDee and crew. Plus, you should remind yourselves that one side of the gate is floating in space, and is probably targeted at a very high velocity, what with all the bullet the Wraith are shooting and whatnot. The other side of the gate is kind of a very small room in which to hit the brakes. (The ships enter the gate room through the ceiling, which actually looks very cool). What is a DeeDee to do? He shoots flying Alien Boogers, of course. He doesn't have munition for all of them, but he manages not only to hit the gate at that speed, but also braking without damaging the room or his passengers (but you can fanwank that the Ancients knew about basic safety protocols and installed a dampening field or somesuch).

One major, MAJOR gripe though: They only found the Wraith because Token looked at the chevron combination. What is taking them from just finding the coordinates and going after them, wave after wave after wave? And why taking the risk of this in the first place? Fly back to where you came from (Teal'ca's planet), and open another wormhole as soon as you're through that one, so nobody follows you!! God, this is dumb.

But oh well, we end this with Weir congratulating DeeDee, Teal'ca ensuring her regular character position by almost snuggling with him (almost. We probably have to live through several seasons before Teal'ca gets some, if other TV shows are any indication), and McKay and Beckett bickering like a good husband and husband. I hope they have more scenes like this together, solo McKay tends to grate on my nerves.

By the way, Weir isn't exactly the leader type here. She gets yanked around by McKay and DeeDee, and has to ask O'Neill for help when people actually say no. I guess we can rule out another Janeway here, but Lady needs to put down her foot, or they'll just walk all over her. But this could just be a buildup to a future coming-of-age-episode of sorts.

So, if we take the four-person-theme from Stargate, we have Weir as the non-authoritative peacenick, a Daniel substitute. Let's see how often she dies. Then, DeeDee is the obvious O'Neill guy. We don't have to bother with Teal'ca, and McKay is kind of the unsympathetic monster equivalent of Carter, just like in the evil parallel universes.

Whaddaya mean, I forgot about AlienDad, and Beckett? AlienDad is some sort of Bratac, or Selmac, and Beckett's a phonetically challenged version of Dr. Fraiser. And Token, meh, why do you think I call him Token Black Character? All in all, the cast has promise provided the writings not that full of holes like parts of the pilot, but it's no SG-1. Yet.

...

.....

...goddammit. Now I'm gonna have to watch Stargate SG-1 for the next few weeks.

Errr....I'm....back? Maybe...

2010-05-09T12:11:00.010+02:00

*yawn* *smack, smack* Ah, what a delightful little nap. I wonder what time it is. Oh. Sunday. In May? In Two-thousand-fucking-ten?!? Wasn't it just November a minute ago? I feel cheated. Oh well.

Time to log on into ye Olde PC of mine...wonder whats on the email. Hm. Spam... spam...spam - ooh, "enlardge you're mennly provess!"[sic] - special spam, spam, spam, online game whining i've been off for several weeks, spam, spam, same o-game deleting my account due to inactivity...eh. whatever. Not important, anyway. Hm. I've forgotten something. Is it my laundry? No. I mean, yes, there is a big huge fucking heap of laundry in my bathroom gaining sentience right now, but that's not it. Man, that's gonna bother me all day. Is it something at work? No, cell phone would have gone off two hours ago, at least. I vaguely associate shame and guilt with that feeling. Hm. What could it be...*looks down* Nope, wearing pants, nope, no underwear on my head. ...This time.

Dammit. this can't be anything important, can it? Have I payed all my bills? Yes. Watered the plants? Ehhh...at least sometime this decade. Fed the birds? *watches bird poop onto his own waterbowl* - well, certain output requires certain input. *sigh* Check. Dentist appointment? No, I'm forgetting that on purpose. Hm. It'll come to me eventually. I'll just pass the time cleaning up my internet favorites. *sniff, sniff* eww, what's reeking like rotten fish in here? Oh. My blog - and that little internet forum where I'm still moderator...

Oops.

Err.

Hello, My name is Teshik Nakatani. You may remember me from films like "Burn, deutsche Telekom, burn", "I am totally going to finish that fanfic this year, honest", and the instant classic "Whine, my life sucks, waaah". And I think I just recovered from a near death experience of my web persona.

Web persona death are quite common, due to the anonymous and, let's face it, flimsy nature of the internet. People in forums post quite often at first, then more and more infrequent, and after a while they simply fade into the background, never to be heard of, again. I'm willing to bet that 80 per cent of the entire blogosphere is made of blogs containing 5 posts or less, abandoned at least several month ago. Web pages, social networks, you name it. All of them are susceptible to the dreaded Real-Life-Desease.

The Reasons are numerous. You got a new girl - or boyfriend, or broke up with him/her. You may realize that posting vids of yourself on YouTube might be hazardous to your carreer. You get a new job, start or finish college, the person collaborating with you on that web project quits, you simply run out of money for your hobby, nobody reads your beautiful webcomic/blog/whathaveyou, yadda yadda blah.

Real-Life-Disease is deadly for your Internet avatar. Worse - the longer you stay away from the web, the lower the chance you go back to it. To avoid the where-have-you-been-questions, because do you really want to talk about that awful breakup with your partner you just barely weathered? Or because whatever drew you into that particular web corner isn't just so interesting anymore. Admit it. The novelty's worn off, and you're bored.

Never say this will never happen to you, because it will. And probably, it has. Think back to the webpages you used to check regularly one year ago. Two years ago. Five years ago.

To be honest, I'm not surprised I left this blog unguarded, so to speak. But I am quite shocked that in the last twelve months, I haven't been able to write more than one blog post, and about a dozen half-assed attempts still rotting in my blog post buffer. No fanfiction. No programming project (for fun, I mean). No short story. No nothing.
Which is strange, because: I really like writing. I do. It's my creative outlet. More importantly, it's my source of stress relief. And I really could use that at the moment, considering:

I've finally managed, after seven fucking long years, to acquire my diploma in Computer Science and Business, (BOOYA, MOTHERFUCKER!)
and I'm now employed as a system analyst and make, in my opinion, a real cool amount of money every month. At least, compared to the jobs I've had before, and the jobs my friends and relatives have at the moment.

So, I would have so many many reasons to bitch about work, uni, finishing uni, or the fact that the fucktards at the uni administration managed to lose my goddamn diploma certificate - TWICE - but for some reason, I didn't feel like posting about it. It isn't even that I don't have the time left to write something, I just didn't. Weird.

Is that what happens if you turn thirty? All the Creativity and Fun gets sucked out of you, and whats left is the perfect work drone for your employer? *shudder* I hope not. Let that be a lesson to you kids - don't let THEM ever talk you into accepting that you're older than sixteen, or you could end up like meeeeeeee! *zombie shuffle* *people fleeing in terror*

So what's the point of this blog post you ask, dear reader? Bah, since when do I need a point? Oh yeah, this time. I wanna thank WyattChris, Storygirl83, tim and chrishalliwellfan for administering CPR to my web persona by congratulating me on my birthday - which was a frickin' month ago, and I didn't even notice. Thanks guys - you got me thinking.

Cultural Memory

2009-11-09T18:57:00.001+01:00

“Wir sind zu Ihnen gekommen, um Ihnen mitzuteilen, dass heute Ihre Ausreise…”

"...das tritt nach meiner Kenntnis...ist das sofort, err... unverzüglich."

There are a few sentences, a few pictures, that are so ingrained in the brain that you'd probably remember them even after a concentrated gamma ray burst, applied directly to your forehead.
There are probably international, and national versions of cultural memory. First off, some international ones that should be known all over the world, assuming you do have a TV. (which means, about 4 billion people are excused, as well as some Amish).

Run, Kim Phuc, Run

By the end of this decade

Road Blocker

Convention? Bah, Geneva, Shmeveva

...And Y'all Knew This One Was Coming, Too.
Jesus Fuckin' Christ, indeed.

One of my exactly two readers: "Baaah. History. That's so fuckin' boring. Tell us funny stories, Teshik, if I was interested in old stuff, I wouldn't be skipping school right now."
Teshik: (socks him/her in the face) Then don't read my friggin' blog, loser.

Then, there's stuff I presume every American will surely recognize:

The Turtle's always right
The cheery "deedle-dum-dum" music is especially surreal giving the context.

Do Solemny Swear
...and the...errr...kind of graphic footage that comes just a few hours before, of course.

And You Think YOU Hate Going To School

If you look at German cultural memory, there are two very prominent themes. One of them regards history before 1945, and for obvious reasons, they are making us feel very queasy, embarrassed and vaguely guilty even though almost all people responsible have been dead for decades.
It's really hard to describe this collective feeling of awkwardness. Imagine a person who, at the local sports stadium during a major event where he was supposed to sing the national anthem. But instead of singing, he dropped down his pants, urinated over the guests of honor in the front row, threw feces at the athletes, and proceeded to run around naked screaming about how much he likes to fuck children.
NOW imagine you're the father or mother of said person, and EACH and EVERYONE in the stadium knows that. No one could directly hold you responsible for that horrible incident, buuuut....
And now you know why Germans still have major issues with their own self-image - and why they probably won't get a permanent seat in the UN security council, even though we...err, definitely know the importance of getting the right singer for the anthem, metaphorically speaking.

The other major part of German cultural memory is directly linked to the aftermath of that unfortunate incident. To stay in the increasingly strained metaphor, after the anthem singer was taken into custody, the policemen disagreed what to do with them: put him into an asylum for rehabilitation, or let him rot in prison as a punishment? In the end, they settled on simply doing both. Oh, and spend the next decades arguing about which way is better.

And so, since Germans really, really didn't want to think of the incident, they concentrated on the bullshit their wardens came up with. Which, let's face it, even though they saved our ass from the stadium mob, became more and more retarded. As in, everyone just carry around big huge-ass bombs, just in case the other warden had a cranky day. Hell, let's even put bombs in the prison cells of the Germans, and other inmates! Because giving people who are considered justifiable insane by all participants, REALLY should have bombs available!
The German singer didn't protest (much). From his perspective of things, he just woke up with a massive hangover, and suspects he might have done something he really, really regrets - and now he realizes: both of his wardens are batshit insane. Or would you say that the theory "he won't attack me, because then we'll ALL die in flames & fire, even the innocent bystanders" really is a surefire way to all-over SECURITY?

Okay, we can't blame everything on Soviets or Americans (Although we really really like to sometimes. Having someone to hate simply makes life easier, I guess). In fact, one of the biggest lies every German knows comes from one of our own, former-Soviet-marionette Number One Walter Ulbricht:
"Niemand hat die Absicht eine Mauer zu errichten." and I already told a nice little fairy-tale without happy end about that one. But I didn't include the pictures. Photos can be found here. (the second one is the one generally better known.)
Iconic pictures also include this one here, this should also be known across our borders, since it's one of the most iconic in the whole Cold War issue. Another film clip everyone over the age of 25 knows is of the woman escaping East Berlin by jumping out of a building:
(she appears around 3:15, I couldn't find a shorter one with the scene in it)

Eight years prior to the building of the Berlin Wall, these scenes had happened.
One thing that always strikes me as incredible is the part where the people start throwing rocks, even though their opponents have fucking tanks, which can turn you into human mincemeat in about five seconds. (This also goes for the unknown chinese guy above)

Another important picture is of former Bundeskanzler Willy Brandt, kneeling. Why is this one important? Well, this answer's complex. First of all, let's look at this map.
I kinda did lie when I said Germany was divided in two, because, see, actually, there are four sections: West Germany, East Germany, Western Poland, and a little bit of Soviet Union. Western Poland fell to Poland after the War because
1) Germany had to be punished (fair enough),
2) Poland had lost its own eastern part to the Soviets just a few years back, and
3) the Soviets ain't giving anything back, nuh-uh!
So, a shitload of Soviets were carted over into Ex-Poland, and a shitload of Germans in turn were carted into rest-Germany. The refugees wanted their stuff back, however. So acknowledging that Poland finally could hold on to their national territory for a few decades, would make many people - voters - unhappy. Especially since over there, they're bad bad communists.

Plus, the even bigger issue here, which I have been tiptoeing around for half the post (in typical German manner, I might add): How does one apologize for inciting two world wars, and the systematized mass murder of millions of people? Especially considering
a) you, as a person, are innocent,
b) the people who are totally guilty are either dead, or hiding in Argentina etc.,
c) you, as a chancellor, represent millions of people who kinda were guilty, in aiding and abedding the bad guys, but shit, even admitting that to themselves would require years of psychotherapy each?

Well, Mr. Brandts answer was way, way less verbose than mine. To wit:
http://www.topfoto.co.uk/gallery/Germany1963_1988/ppages/ppage21.html
Not perfect, but this was impossible from the beginning.

Now, before I depress you into tears, let's lighten the mood at least a little. For example, does anyone recognize this guy on the right? Hint: Twenty years prior, he threw rocks at policemen for not being communist and hippie enough. Twenty years after this picture, he retired from his post as German foreign minister and vice chancellor. Besides causing uproar by appearing at a formal oath in sneakers, he also got popular with the sentence: "Mit Verlaub, Herr Präsident, Sie sind ein Arschloch" (With all due respect, Mr. President (of the Bundestag), you are an asshole.)

And now, we finally get back to those two German sentences I left untranslated above. The first is from another foreign minister, Hans-Dietrich Genscher, of the then-West-Germany, spoken in the German Embassy in Prague. People from the GDR had left the country towards Czechoslovakia in thousands, climbed the fence of the embassy ground, and were technically on West German ground - so no GDR official could get them to go back. They camped in and around the embassy for weeks, simply because they wanted out of East Germany.
On September 30th, Genscher went to Prague to deliver his message. The reaction can be found here.

Interesting to note: You can't actually hear if he's saying yes or no, because it totally drowns in the emotional outburst.

The second quote occured one-and-a-half months later. During a press conference, Günther Schabowski of the GDR essentially tells the stumped journalists, that yes, every GDR citizen is now free to leave the country, no strings attached, if they so choose. A few weeks before, this was a total exception, and only months before, people still were shot at for crossing the border.

But: actually, this new travel policy should have been active the next day, on November 10th. Additionally: It was planned to publish this at 4 o'clock in the morning, when everyone was asleep - not at 19.00, when everyone and their grandma is sitting at the telly.

So, hundreds of GDR citizens called their neighbours and went to the Wall. The border police, of course, knew of nothing - they would've been informed the next morning, and remember, this was the end of the eighties, so no internet, and no cellphone to call your superiors, if suddenly hundreds of people tell you of a law that you never heard before. You have to give it to both the policemen and the civilians during that evening that no one panicked, no one was hurt, no shot had been fired. The events of that night, finally, in a video here.
(disregard the poor fashion choices, mullets and frizzy hair, please - remember, this is
a) the eighties,
b) those people actually had to stand in line for those clothes, for hours, and
c) this is the fucking Fall of the Berlin Wall, right over there. The first peaceful revolution the Germans have managed in the History of ...Forever, so be a little happy for us.

Rude Awakenings

2009-04-12T12:44:00.014+02:00

I'm not a morning person. I've gotten used to it. But because I'm always accumulating bad karma, random deities like to screw up my sleeping patterns. I can handle stress pretty good by now, or workload, or just random strangers happening to share their live-stories with me(yes that happens, no, I don't like it), but if I don't get a minimum of six hours sleep at night, I'm a very hard customer.
Additionally, on Tuesdays, I have the day off from work, and really like to sleep in, because I'm much happier when I start the day on 8.30 than 5.45 a.m. Especially considering my Monday ends usually on Tuesday, 2.30 a.m. or so.

So, of course, this is the cue for:

Tuesday, three weeks ago. 7 a.m.
Doorbell: *bing-bong*
Teshik: *snore*
Doorbell: *bing-bong*
Teshik: *grunts* *rolls over*
Doorbell: *bing-bong*!
Teshik: (his face buried in the pillow) Die. Just...die.
Doorbell: Dude, totally: *Bing-Bong*!!
Teshik: (imaginative cursing). Fine. FINE!
I stumble out of bed, grab a pair of jeans, because, whoever it is I have to kill right now, I'm not doing that while in my skimmies. It's a matter of principle. I stagger down the stairs, and open the door. There's a man outside, smiling. The part of my brain that's older than humanoid evolution, and one of the few parts already available does a quick calculation. Conclusion: Target larger than me, ripping out his throat with my teeth is inadvisable. For now.
Guy that shouldn't be so cheerful at 7 a.m.: Good Morning!
Teshik: *wookie noise*
Mr. Cheerful: So, where's the basement door?
There is a pause as Teshik tries to restart his brain. A starting car engine is heard in the background. He fails.
Teshik: Ehhhhhhh....whyyyyyy?
Mr. Cheerful: The boiler?
The engine starter tries again. Teshik's brain tries to establish a factual baseline for the snippets "cheerful unknown man", "boiler", "men trying to enter home" and "god knows when in the morning".
Teshik's Brain: Oh whatthefuckEVER. Just go with it. Wake me if he's a serial killer with superpowers.
Teshik: Eh. Follow me. (leads him to the boiler room and goes back upstairs).
Mom: (from the downstairs bathroom) Teshik! Teshik! Teshik!
I go over to the bathroom and try to open the door. Said door is shut firmly and quickly, hitting my head.
Teshik: OW! Fuck, Mom!
Mom: Don't open the door, don't open the door! Is he in the basement?
Teshik: Yeah...Who exactly...?
Mom: The heating's broke in some rooms, and we called someone over.
Teshik: And why did he ring my bell?
Mom: Because he's half an hour early, and I was just toweling myself.
Teshik: And you didn't open because...
Mom: ...my clothes are in the bedroom, and I'm butt naked.
Teshik: Aaahh. I'll get'em.
Mom: (pause) Did I just hit you?
Teshik: Yep.
Mom: Sorry.
Teshik: Don't worry, I'll bitch about it when I'm awake.

--

Tuesday, two weeks ago. 7.15 a.m.
Teshik: No, Superman, don't do it, Bambi is leading you into a trap.
Superman: Don't worry, I have many origami skills that will save me. Also: *bing-bong*.
Teshik: Sorry, I didn't get that.
The giant stone statue of Princess Clara: *binnnng-bonnnng*
Teshik: Mrrrfnl? Oh. (innovative cursing suggesting the doorbell ringer's mother enganged in unlawful acts with a raccoon)
This time, it's a woman in a business suit.
Woman: Hello! It's Mrs Schneider. I'm here for the photos?
Meanwhile, in the scary recesses of Teshik's head:
Aggression: I say we kill'er.
Curiosity: Wait! There's some interesting story behind that. (pause) And probably quite some innuendo.
Common Sense: What person in her right mind would decide 7 a.m is the right time to ring at a random stranger's door and ask for photos?
Memory: Oh, stranger things have happened to us.
Common Sense: True.
Aggression: I still say we kill'er.
Id: Id agrees.
Curiosity: Do you think she wants photos of us, photos of her, or something different?
Super-ego: Murdering a human being, is, as of current legislation, considered a major crime and thus, should be avoided. I suggest asking her for the purpose of the proposed pictures.
Proofreading: Aaah, Alliteration! Awesome!
Aggression: (to Super-ego) Killjoy. (to Proofreading) Idiot.
Ego: What's all the racket up here? Aren't we supposed to be asleep? ...Who the hell is this woman and what does she mean with photos? *sigh* I'll better get back in the driver's seat.
Back in the outside world.
Mrs. Schneider: Err...
Teshik: *wookie noise*?
Mrs. Schneider: You know, the photos for the house? Is <Mrs Nakatani> at home too?
Teshik: I really hope so.
This time, my mother was awake, and fully clothed, but for some reason Mrs Schneider found it necessary and/or funny to ring at my door instead of my parents. Turns out she works for a local financing agency, and my parents had tried to change the loan for the house to a different bank for a while now (mostly because the interest rates weren't as cushy as they had been in the mid-eighties), and the new bank wanted some security that our house wasn't a total dump or local crack house. Hence, the photos. It's still no explanation why these pictures had to be taken at seven in the morning, or why she insisted on taking a picture of my bathroom, but not of my freshly renovated bedroom. Oh well. It all boils down to "we have to pay 100 € less each month for the house", so in the end, I won't complain. Much.

--

Tuesday, last week, 8.45 a.m. At last, a sensible time. Well, if I hadn't worked on my paper till four in the morning, that is, but that's kinda my own damn fault. This time, it's the phone ringing. Hooray for variance.

Teshik: *snore*
Phone: deee-dooh-de-de-der-dooh-de-dee-dum!
Teshik: Oh, fuck me.
Phone: deee-dooh-de-de-der-dooh-de-dee-dum!
Teshik: New Item on TODO-List: devise flesh-eating bacteria. Set flesh-eating bacteria loose on innocent population. Wait in Biohazard suit until Eurafrasia is completely depopulated. Live happily ever after.
He goes over to the living room and the phone.
Teshik: What?
Mom: Where is that thingy?
Teshik's analytical brain component: Semantic analysis in Progress. Voice analysis confirms caller is "Mom". Message: Location of "thingy" object needed. Searching recent memory memes for mention of "thingy", as to supply additional meaning and context. Search complete. "thingy" not found. Conclusion: Data insufficient. No hypothesis reached. Redo from start.
Teshik: What?
Mom: You know...for the tires? For the screws.
Teshik's analytical brain component: Context supplied. Attempting to recalculate. Tires means either bicycle or car. Since our bicycles have been uselessly rusting in our garage for years, car tires are the most likely objects meant. Mother wants a tool, probably a wrench or ratchet. Raising the question: Since Mom's technical expertise in cars is as low as mine, and the tires are almost half her size and weight, how, and why does she want to disassemble our vehicles? Especially considering Mom has a bad back?
Teshik: Please stay where you are until I am wearing pants and can help you.
Mom: No, no! Go back to sleep, just tell me where the thingy is.
Teshik's mind.
Common Sense: But, since we're already awake, and she's pursuing a thinly veiled passive-aggressive strategy, does she really think we would crawl back into bed, even if we could sleep?
Aggression: I say we kill'er.
Common Sense: Matricide without adequate reason? Is...unwise.
Aggression: We could...maim her a little?
Common Sense: Hmm...
Back outside.
Teshik: Just...don't touch anything, I'll be right there.

Okay, so Mom didn't want to do all the heavy work by herself, since Malady and her boytoy (Who I will name TheDick, just for a cheap laugh) were going to help her. But Mom was up early, and decided she could just "prepare a little". Only, that's kind of an "in motion" thing with her: She starts off looking for the tools, drives the first car into position, gets the car jack, decides one little tire isn't going to kill her, and the next thing you know, I find my Mom buried under a giant tire stack, a la Wicked Witch of the West and lil'DoroTeshik has to travel into Lollipop-Guild-controlled land to get his spleen back. And you know, since I'm just not the type for sparkly red high heels, this would've only ended very, very badly. Hee.
So, of course, I was the one getting the tires, explaining this to Mom, only leaving out the Wizard of Oz parts (I'm crazy, not stupid). And either because I'm a klutz or God loves a cheap laugh as much as the next guy, in the very next second, I lose grip of a tire and brain myself in the face with it. And then take the day off because of mild concussion afterwards. And let me tell you: nothing is better than your friends singing "the last Unicorn" instead of "happy birthday" three days later. Or more surreal.

So, what did we learn today? Not much, except that getting out of bed is dangerous.

In Conclusion: 2008 hated me.

2008-12-31T20:29:00.012+01:00

But before I start dissing the new year, I have to give the old one a proper send-off. And by proper, I mean, "beat it until it's dead and then dump its corpse into a gigantic vat full of acid".

During the beginning of December, I was still overworked as hell (no surprise here), so that means, Christmas Shopping will have to wait. A little. Then a little more, and a little to the left, and whoops, somehow it's December 21st. Anyone of you ever been so incredibly stupid so you had to go out two days before Christmas to get all of your shopping done?

We all know, that, as soon as December 1st comes around, approximately 30 % of the general population turns on a secret switch in their brains, the ends of which are labled "Normal -- Batshit Crazy", respectively. People who normally aren't fazed by an earthquake rating 7.2 on the Richter scale, suddenly are dazzled, confused and panicked by simple concepts like traffic lights. Or won't think of the simplest solutions and precautions. Like winter tires, for example.

As we all know, or at least SHOULD know, winter tends to be cold. One could even assume that, since we have witnessed snow, and ice, in the past years, always in winter, that people can make the association between "winter" and "cold". Especially considering that everyone who is permitted to drive a car has at least a 16 to 18 years experience regarding winters, depending on the country you're in. And you'd be mistaken. Because every fucking year, as soon as the first snow comes around, I always seem to drive just behind one of four types of car drivers:

a) Ooooooohhh. Preeeetttyyyy. I will now slow down and park in the middle of the street to admire the beauty of nature.
b) Oh. Is that a snowflake? Oh my. And this in October/November/December/January? Who'd've thunk. But now I have summer tires on my car. What do I do? I better get an appointment at the nearest auto shop. I will take out my telephone book right now. In the middle of the Autobahn/highway/highly trafficed city street. Oh, those people are honking. Don't they know I'm incapable of driving right now? I have summer tires! As a compromise, I will slouch along at 5 kilometers per hour, and hope I will arrive safely.
c) OH MY GOD A SNOWFLAKE WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!! (steps on the brakes so hard the following two cars slam into him, creating a traffic jam)
d) I am so very very cool. I am so cool that I don't need no fucking winter tires. Because caution is for pussies. That's why I'm driving 200 kilometers per hour in an area where only 100 is permitted, and where the road is totally fucking iced. That's how cool I am. And even though my brakes are failing right now, I'm still the coolest of them ....AAAAAHH! (Crash! Boom! Fatality! *Ding* Congratulations! You have unlocked the "Darwin Award" achievement!)

Sadly, these four types can also be found during the Christmas Shopping Spree. Type A will simply stop at every goddamn mall window, admiring the Fuzzy Wuzzy Weebits or whatever; Type B is struck with indecision, running around aimlessly because, hell, this way, he/she will just hit the wanted store and present at some point; Type C will kill each and everything in his/her path because, Oh GOD, there are only 25 Paris-Hilton-Barbies-With-Sagging-Eyelid-Action left at this and every other damn store, so the chances of actually getting one are next to nothing, NOTHING I tells ya; and Type D provides us with the much needed domestic violence quota over the Holidays, gifting his girlfriend with either everything HE ever wanted, or everything nobody in the History of Mankind ever wanted, but is still made commercially. Well, someone has to help the economy with senseless consumerism I guess.

Now, take those four types, multiply each of them by 500, stuff them into the nearest mall, and put one sane person in the middle, follow them with a camera, and grab the popcorn as the poor fucker is driven insane and/or ripped into pieces.

Yeah. Note to self: Don't do that again, Idiot.

Also, dear Mall operating staff, or whatever you guys are called: Yes, Winter is cold. Thanks for acknowledging. But if you crank up the heating in the building up to eleven and beyond, all those people, who are already zooming through your halls like a live demonstration of the Brownian Motion, and are coated in at least seven layers of clothing each? Will start to sweat. Sweat, when amassed in large amounts, starts to stink like a dead buffalo. So, just a suggestion, don't turn the heating up to a FUCKIN' 30 DEGREES CELSIUS.

But in spite of stress, homicidal maniacs, and strange random people asking me which motivational coffee mug she should buy for Stefanie (She mistook me for someone. I hope), I managed to get out of it with all presents and only superficial mental scarring.

But of course, that's not the end of my year. On December 18th, our department at work made an afterwork party/X-mas precelebration or whatever these things are called. Anyway, after sitting in a restaurant of ridiculously overpriced food, and gaining the suspicion that actually, work hasn't ended yet (brought on by my boss, who "suggested" that we "voluntarily" take part in some exercises that were remarkably like those in those fuggin' team workshops), afterwards, we took off in the christmas market, and since I was still dressed for office, not for minus ten degrees, thank you, I came down with a nasty little cold virus that infested me until about christmas.

But fear not, I will not have the indignity of not being bothered this Christmas! For Lo, my sister had an even worse cold and more or less coughed all over our Christmas Dinner, so on December 26th, I was sick again.
Meanwhile, the PC I had bought this past June was showing signs of the Fucking Off And Dying, and after realizing the hard drive was in on it, I barely had time to save some really really important paper I had been working on since October, and then *puff* PC Death. and even better, all those pesky files that I had stored on said hard drive? Gone, too!
Including, but certainly not limited to, the entire source code I was programming for said paper. (it's called Studienarbeit. Before you're allowed to write your diploma paper, you have to write a Studienarbeit/study paper to prove that you're capable of writing scientific texts or some bullshit like that. Essentially, it's three months of work that won't even be graded, but is almost as time-consuming as the diploma paper itself.). So, without the source code, which was the program I developed in those three months, and which was the basis of my very theory in the paper, the paper itself? was completely worthless now. Yay! Let's spend yet another year in University, Teshik! It's not expensive or exhausting or anything!

So, between Christmas and New Years, I had time to contemplate how to salvage the situation, and going through all my backups to see if there was anything left. There was, the almost finished version of my program, that is, save for a few bugs. But: without the source code, you can't edit out those pesky bugs, and also, you can't prove that you didn't download the entire application from some shady internet source - not good for a "scientific paper".

But at least, I had something, because my hard disk decided to give me the finger again, and again, and proceeded to fuck with my mind even further, since: My hard disk was divided into four parts: windows, my games, my music, and my data (where the important parts are located). Now, considering all my music is ripped from my cd's, and are also backed up as mp3's somewhere, what do you think I'll get if I access the broken hard disk with disk repair software? That's right, everything but the data I need. Good thing Murphy's law is still in operation. Oh, and additionally? The graphics card I got from Scorpio for Christmas, was toasted too.

Also still in operation? Murphy's Second Law, If things are left to themselves, they will go from bad to worse. Remember that cold? Oh, that cold itself wasn't that bad. But it seemingly opened the door for several other interesting diseases. And so, on December 31st, my cousin, where I wanted to spend New Years Eve, received a call:

Scorpio: Hey. What up?
Teshik: Uhh. My dinner. It then proceeded to jump in the toilet.
Scorpio: (pause) You really hate to catch a break with your bad luck strain, don't you?
Teshik: Yeah, that'd just be like giving up on my great Goddess, the Mighty Misfortuna.

And so, yes, the Year 2008 ended for me, clutching my old friend The Toilet Bowl.

Ain't Life Grand?

Wisdom, my Ass

2008-11-25T18:46:00.003+01:00

Hey People, sorry I haven't written in (insert time period) because of (insert increasingly lame excuse about stressful real life). Well, that's the gist of it, anyway, because after work, I get tied up in uni work, and after that, I barely have the time for the base tasks of "eat", "sleep" "brush teeth", and "change underwear", so I just decided to skip the "have fun" part of my weekly schedule entirely. And then it suddenly became November.

My body doesn't seem to find this all too funny, however, and given me subtle hints about his displeasure all summer. Athlete's Foot, at first. I have stuff that cures that, never mind. Then, gaining ten pounds of weight. Would be uncomfortable, if you don't count in the fact that even with them, I'm still ten pounds below the recommended weight for my height, so that one's actually working in my favor. For the first time in ages, I could actually buy pants fitting me - well, if I had the time to shop, that is. Body recognizes he's not getting anywhere, and starts popping zits, about one per day and facial region. Girl, please. I've been having zits since two days before my twelfth birthday. And unlike my puberty, I'm not a sobbing case of hormones anymore, thank god. So I'm able to shrug it off, because I'm not that vain. Then, hair loss. Oooh, subtle, and actually getting my attention - because while I might not care for my average facial structure, I do have a weak spot of vanity regarding my hair - mainly since I still, at age 28, have kind of a boyish appearance, sorta Michael J. Fox-like, and I would look really reaaaally stupid with male-pattern baldness. But I think I'll just look into Propecia and the like in the future and move on.

So, it became clear for my body that, if he finally wants me to slow down a notch, he inevitably has to break out the heavy artillery. That heavy artillery means: Teeth. I have a major phobia for dentists, so yeah. nothing short of my eyeballs literally bursting into flame will have any more impact.
Week 1. It started out as a dull pressure between my front teeth. Which I dismissed. I already knew the last wisdom tooth was coming, and well, I have had three of them already, all of which went out without any bigger fuss. Let him come, I have place for one more.

Week 2.The pressure continues. Well. Speed up, your buddies are waiting. And I'm busy redesigning the cover sheets of my TPS reports or something.

Week 3.The pressure intensifies, and shortens my sleep phases. Hurry up, fucknugget, I'm busy.

Week 4. I give in and make an appointment with my dentist, because, well, I don't sleep any longer. Are there any other people with moderate to severe oral phobia out there? Then you might be able to understand what "making an appointment with dentist", out of free will, means to me.

My dentist is a nice man, but he tends to be a little too enthusiastic about my teeth, or rather, their problems.

T: I have a problem with my wisdom tooth.
The Dentist takes that scraping thing and ventures into my unwilling mouth. Both me and the assistant tense up, me because I don't like people venturing into my oral cavity in general, and her because she knows, from experience, that I will plant my fist into her stomach to vocalise eventual...err...displeasures with the treatment. (I apologized. But I would do it again, without remorse.)
D: Yes, that one down there looks like a pretty case of caries.
T: Err...actually I mean the one on the upper side. The one that's not out yet? (But thanks about the prospect of a drill in the very deepest part of my jaw bone in a future appointment.)
D: (after an x-ray) Well, it seems that your tooth is special.
T: "Special" means you apply a special spray, and it vanishes on its own?
D: Oh no. See, here (points to the x-ray) you see the tooth reaching into your nasal cavity. Also, on the side, you can even see it boring into the back of your jaw muscle tissue - that's what's probably causing the pain. I can't remove that, you get to see a colleague of mine, a facial surgeon.
T: *twitch*

Facial surgery. Oh Goody. But since the pain in my jaw went from "ouch" to "Fucking OW!" to "OH PLEASE LORD HAVE MERCY" in the two days between dentist and facial surgeon, I didn't complain. Mostly because I was so exhausted from sleep deprivation that my mother had to physically drag me out of the house and into the car.
Oh, and what I definitely don't need in this kind of situation is walking into the waiting room and hearing an earthshattering "EEAAAAAOOOUUWWWW!!!" from a fellow patient. If I had been in a better condition, I'd've cut my losses and run screaming into the night.

The tooth removal itself wasn't that bad, because, thank the heavens for regional anaesthetics. And also, after the tooth was out, and the pressure gone, I was so very merry...until the drugs went off, that is. Since the tooth went up all the way to the nasal cavity, this also meant in the first two days I had to be really careful not to sneeze or anything, because certain parts of my anatomy in mouth and nose then flabbed. Also, when my mouth is closed, I really REALLY shouldn't be able to draw air into my mouth through my nose. Aren't you glad I imparted that interesting and disgusting wisdom upon you just now?

And yes, instead of finally taking a much-needed sick day, I purposefully set the appointment to a friday when I'm not working, and went on to work back on Monday. Probably because I'm just that much of a masochistic moron.

Yeah, and this is pretty much everything I remember from Autumn 2008. People say admitting that you have a problem is the first step and shit. I so admit my problem, too many activities crammed into too little time slots. There. Could now somebody get on with the fixing of said problem? I mean, I would solve it myself, but, just look at the time! Too late, too late, too-late-too-late-too-late!!! *hops onwards towards the next useless appointment while Lewis Carroll rolls his eyes in the background*

Join Teshik when he gets all he wishes, in the worst possible way of course, during Christmas and January. Which he will probably post in November 2012, by the rate things are going.

Fun for the Masses

2008-06-23T15:48:00.002+02:00

Hey You! Yes, I mean you! Are you currently underworked? Maybe out of gainful employment? Are you even bored out of your MIND? Do you need a cheap, nay, free pastime to spend the endless hours? Despair no more, because those Interwebs of late (which are, as you all know, a series of tubes) have countless pages of made-up-shit just for that very purpose.

Plus, as an added bonus: You just know that some other person spent countless hours behind this, just to entertain the world.

Section I: Video Entertainment.

You all know Youtube. For those who don't: Dear Sir or Madam, are you aware that, at this moment, you have a real mouse on your desk, and are probably even touching it? Go find pest control.
Sorry. But you just can take so many calls from friends and family ("Hey, I just bought me the internets, and now it won't work." Or: "I can't access my Email." - "That's because you're on the eBay website." - "Yeah, but I can't open my Email! Duh!") before you start getting mean to the Technophobes.

Innyway. Youtube basically is one of those Gold-digging sites: You search for the nuggets, while digging through the 90 % utter crap that comprises the rest. One of thee nuggets:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uk2sPl_Z7ZU
How to draw the Mona Lisa with MS Paint. Just...wow.

Or: Fun-ucationals: Trying to remember the Presidents of the USA? All 50 States and their Capitals? Or even just all countries in the whole friggin' world? The animaniacs have the answer:

Presidents:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vvy0wRLD5s8

States:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNUDDaEOvuY

Nations:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDtdQ8bTvRc

Also, if you just want a random quick flashback into the nineties? Here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bjOePNFRFRU
(You can also watch the original, but why? It doesn't even have dancing hippos.)

Then: Abridged Series. These are Youtube-"Shorts" (usually five to ten minutes), retelling an episode of a selected anime or cartoon. And when I say "retell", I mean "parody", pointing out the various plotholes, inconsistencies, and make just plain old fun. In most cases, having seen the original cartoon? is entirely optional. Warning: All of them contain coarse language, some adult content, and, like, you're spoiled afterwards, DUH!
Of course, there are also about a million copycats of the good ones, most of them atrociously bad. Some of the good ones are:

Yugioh The Abridged Series
by LittleKuriboh, The guy who I think started it all. Has now started his own website hosting the stuff.

Avatar TAS
"Hold on, I'll save us by freezing us in a giant block of ice! Yeah, best plan ever." Heh.

Teen Titans TAS
Not that impressive the first minute or so, but give it a shot, it really pays off. There are other series around, I didn't watch them yet, only Chaltab's.

Yu Yu Hakusho TAS
The anime is of the more obscure variety, but the humor's still good.

Legend of Zelda - TAS
The game, in abridged format.

Sailor Moon AbridgedHeh. The best part is, it really brings out the extreme cheesiness of the original. Now with it's own website, too.

Secret of Mana Theater- Not a movie, per se, but a flash-made retelling of Secret of Mana, the SNES video game. This one's the funniest once you've played the game though (look for emulators.)

And while we're on the topic of flash - an entire world of flash games and little movies, over here, at Newgrounds.

Section II - Games

You need something more interactive to keep yourself occupied? No problem. For the internet also supplies oodles of Games, too. And, like the previous stuff: for free.

Just tossing out some examples, because I don't have the time to find all of them at the moment:

Survival Guide: Dust Settles

You just happened to survive the nuclear war. Now, onwards to becoming on of the post-apocalyptic World leaders! A browser game. If you like strategy, here's your genre. If you want pretty explosions and stuff, not so much.
Space4k

Browser game just as above, but this time, you're ruling space.
Anarchy Online

One of the "real environment" games. Instead of browser games, you download a game client (yes, it's biiiig. I suggest Bittorent), and log on to a 3D environment, where you can create a character fighting monsters, and other players. and stuff. Imagine the Sims. Only with guns. And dinosaurs.

Section III - Webcomics

The third, and largest section, mainly because I'm not in the mood to sort the good from the bad, so you'll just get a dump from my Favorites folder, and you'll figure it out. Hey, you're the people with nothing to do at the moment...

arcade(Gamers Fun)

:: Dueling Analogs ::: Dueling Analogs is a color semi-weekly webcomic that lampoons the characters, culture and subtext of modern gaming and video game culture. Updates every Tuesday and Thursday.
Ctrl+Alt+Del - Tragically l337
GOD MODE * Mon-Wed-Fri * Gaming Comics Hilarity by Ryan Kerns: For fans of Manga, Anime, Games, Gaming, Gamers Playstation, Nintendo, Xbox, Halo 2, PSP, Sony, Squaresoft, Nintendogs, Sonic, Final Fantasy, Advent Children, Nintendo Revolution, PS3, XBOX 360
STAGE SELECT: When Masters Attack - Updated every Friday and Monday!: A megaman webcomic! HAND DRAWN! Bye bye, sprite comics!
VG Cats - Updated Mondays
EXTRALIFE - Web comic for geeks, gamers, and stuff like that
Penny Arcade!
SORE THUMBS * Mon-Wed-Fri * Insane Political Gaming Manga-Type Comics by Owen Gieni and Chris Crosby: For fans of Manga, Anime, Games, Gaming, Gamers, Playstation, Nintendo, Xbox, Halo 2, PSP, Sony, Warcraft, Super Mario Bros.
Press Start To Play - A Webcomic About Life, Love And Videogames. Updated Monday and Friday
ActionTrip Comic Strip: Taking Public Relations to New Heights: ActionTrip.com offers a great collection of gaming comics, alternative comic strips, world of arcraft comics, funny humor, and more!
Digital Unrest - Updated at least every Monday
Bob and George, the Comic Strip! - Discontinued, but it ran for seven years. One of the then-popular sprite comics.

Sinfest
Spells & Whistles: A Comic by Tauhid Bondia and Mike Spectre
Swordwaltzer
The Adventures of John Witchthorn ™ and friends -- protecting the Earth from the Darknaughts who prowl the Channels of Infinity!: John Witchthorn uses his mystic powers and supernormal abilities to protect the Earth from extra-dimensional danger!
Unshelved - archive
Fallen - updates Sundays

Fantasy

SkyFallManga.com || SkyFall Online Manga
Fantasy Webcomic Rogues of Clwyd-Rhan: Elves, Witches, Vikings and Beer!
Bookelves featuring Alfheim (alv'hame) Updated Tuesday, January 15, 2008: Fantasy-genre comics. Humor, romance, and adventure. Some mature themes, Benny Hill-style innuendo, and scantily-clad characters.
Dumb Luck
Sins - Updating MWF
Edge the Devilhunter Online: The Gospel of Whoopass!: An online graphic novel about a lewd, teenage gutterpunk conscripted by divine forces to fight the armies of hell. MA: Graphic Violence, Strong Sexuality, Adult Language
The Gods of ArrKelaan (Consequences - Prelude [Cover]): Drunk Duck is the webcomics community that provides FREE hosting and memberships to people who love to read or write comic books, or comic strips.
Exiern Thursday, June 7, 2007
Juathuur by Katie Sweet - Part of the SpiderForest.com Webcomics Network: Juathuur by Katie Sweet - Part of the SpiderForest.com Webcomics Network
..:: Heroes of Lesser Earth ::..: Heroes of Lesser Earth is a fantasy adventure on-going web comic series that has posts new comics on Tuesdays and Fridays of each week. Characters are RPG based
Looking For Group
-After Armageddon- Version 4.0 - Updates Mondays
Alpha Shade Pages
Cat Legend: Comics
Darken
Earthsong - by Lady Yates - Updates Mon&Thurs
Electric Manga
Errant Story
Fantasy Realms: An epic fantasy graphic novel by Clay Gardner and Niko Geyer.
Fresh Mode Webcomic Zone: Hunt
NNFB! Updates Mondays: No Need for Bushido, Samurai Ronin and Ninja!
Talismen - Return of the Exile
Seraph Inn
Shades of Grey
Tales Of Pylea
The Wandering Ones by day
The War of Winds, by KEZ. Hosted by SpiderForest!: A graphic novel that follows characters in the last battle of war that has lasted millennia. Updates 2x weekly.
toothycat.net - Looking for the Sun
http://crowfeathers.net/page.php?c=8&p=0
Valkyrie Yuuki
VOLG/English

general

Candi - Tuesday, July 6, 2004
Welcome to Fish Tank!
Odd-Fish Webcomic : Amore: Odd-fish webcomic by Biro-art's NobbyNobody
Emergency Exit- In your face!
star cross'd destiny - online illustrated novel - updates MWF: Epic saga of the five friends governed by the dark star of fate.
In the recesses of the archives...
The Off Chance - The Webcomic - Year Three: A comedic tale of a pair of room mates living their daily lives with a horde of rabid bunnies and a fish trying to rule the world.
Basic Instructions: How to Give Directions
Little Dee by Chris Baldwin
El Goonish Shive - Copyright & TM 2002-2007 Dan Shive
Flint Again
Friendly HOSTILITY
Funny Farm - Daily Comic Strip - © 2005 R. Smith
Factual Authentic Real True Stories
Giant In the Playground Games
Keenspace -- Nahast: Lands of Strife
Knights of Vesteria by Matt Summers and Tom Fraser
"Templar, Arizona" by Spike: Try to think of it as AN Arizona, not THE Arizona.
MARRY ME: A webcomic (online comic strip).
No Pink Ponies - Friday, March 3, 2006
Ozy and Millie
Paradox Lost
Penny and Aggie
PierceLogic: An online comic about games, computers, and the gaming industry as seen from the viewpoint of three gamers. Updated every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Pseudome' Studio LLC: Van Von Hunter: Hunter of evil...stuff. Comic #220 11/26/06: Pseudome Studio presents the on-line manga, Van von Hunter. The mighty hunter and killer of all things evil, Van von Hunter, travels many an evil land, smiting many evil creatures and drinking many evil, magical beers.
Simulated Comic Product - How bad is it?
Something Like Life (): Drunk Duck is the webcomics community that provides FREE hosting and memberships to people who love to read or write comic books, or comic strips.
Todd and Penguin--archives: Comic strip about a cookie loving penguin who lives with a guy named Todd. My tribute to classics such as Calvin and Hobbes, Bloom County, and Peanuts.
Ugly Hill Archives: Ugly Hill
Yang Child

Sci Fi

angels2200.com
Buck Godot Online Comics: Girl Genius—a Gaslamp Fantasy with Adventure, Romance and Mad Science; read it now online!
Starsomething - Solar-Comics Every Astro-Monday
Good Ship Chronicles by Tauhid Bondia: Updates Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays
Experiences : Nine Planets Without Intelligent Life : Bohemian Drive
Star Traks BorgSpace 2.0 - The Assimilated Generation
Parallel Dementia Home
Banished: The Archives
Ice: the comic
Legostar Galactica version 3.0 - Friday, May 23, 2003
Indavo
Schlock Mercenary archives: Welcome to Schlock Mercenary archives, where you can find six years of the web's best comic space-opera all in one place
Special School by Andy Mason - Part of the SpiderForest.com Webcomics Network - Tuesdays and Fridays: Special School by Andy Mason - Part of the SpiderForest.com Webcomics Network
thefarreaches.com
Terinu
White Noise
Zap! Archives
STAR TRAKS: BOLDLY GONE...

haven't read them yet

The Best Webcomics of 2005

main


Aldus Maycombe :: Not-dead and fruitier than ever!
Amazoness!
AppleGeeks 3.0
Bruno the Bandit © 2001 Ian McDonald: Follow the daily adventures of Bruno the Bandit and his trusty sidekick, Fiona the microdragon!
Candi - Monday, March 5, 2007
College Roomies from Hell!!! for Monday, November 13, 2006: College Roomies from Hell!!! An online comic strip. If you thought college was hell, wait till you meet your roommates! This strip features three perfect strangers trying to live together without strangling each other, their cute neighbors, an evil hand puppet and a pet rock named Fluffy
Comedity 2.0
Dresden Codak - Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
Evil Inc. by Brad Guigar - A Daily Webcomic
Fatebreaker
Flaky Pastry
Geek Tragedy Archives
Girl Genius Online Comics!: Girl Genius—a Gaslamp Fantasy with Adventure, Romance and Mad Science; read it now online!
Go For It! Archive
Grim Tales From Down Below, Updated Sundays: Comics based on movies, games, music, and pop culture. Also featuring the Power Puff Girl Doujinshi, Grim Tales From Down Below, TIN: The Incompetent Ninja, and the King of Fighters Doujinshi.
Krakow Original. Same Great Taste. Same Great Webcomic. Thursday, September 07, 2006
Lizzy
Misfile - A comic by Chris Hazelton - Now Updating Every Weekday
Mystican Dreams: A war between races on the planet Mystica. Will a beautiful princess and a servant from two different races be able to end the 1000 year rift?
No Reason » Archive » Heroes: A webcomic (online comic strip).
Nuklear Power - Home of 8-bit Theater
Parallel Dementia Home
Questionable Content: New comics every Monday through Friday
Real Life - The Online Comic
Shanime.com: Home of the webcomics 'The Peons,' 'Pigeon,' and Hero +/-'
something positive: archive
something positive: archive1937
Sorcery 101
SPQR Blues - Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Strange Candy archives: FOOM! The lives of six strangers change forever when they're transported from Tokyo Tower to a Strange world of cat boys, cat girls, amazons, shoujo manga, jello wrestling, love hotels, giant robots, tentacle monsters, bishounen waiters, cutthroat croquet, and idol singers.

Welcome To Gun Baby
Wireheads -- Hollywood Blondes, Visual Effects Blues & CGI Geeks!
Menage a 3

The hills are alive - With the sound of mucus

2008-06-10T17:39:00.004+02:00

Note to self: Self, don't complain about the weather being way, wayyy too cold for Mid-May. Because then, only two days later, said weather will make a 180-degree-turn and roasts you in 32 degrees (Celsius. I don't do Fahrenheit.). Which had the unfortunate side-effect of activating my hay fever, and worse than ever. And nothing is more fun than spending your afternoons expelling never-ceasing-fluids from your nose, or marathon-sneezing. And those little crumbs in your eyes that prevent you from opening them in the morning? Make waking up at half past five even more perfect than it is already. My dermatologist (See? Told ya I'd add people to the list) says she's totally packed at the moment, because apparently it's more of a "People are dropping left and right due to severe pollen hazard" problem this year, and not a "Teshik's allergies are just more pissed this year than usual" problem. Which is not that big a consolation for me, but as long as I get prescription free allergy pills in the pharmacy, I don't mind it that much that she can't give me an appointment. Plus, it's actually less costly for me, because, If you go to the doc in Germany, you have to pay 10 € once per quarter. If you don't go to the doc, you don't have to pay. And the allergy meds cost me about 6 €. Compared to paying 10 € for showing up at my doc once for June, and July (different quarters, so 20 €), paying twice for the meds myself is better than having to sit around in the waiting room for two hours each appointment. Even if I get free meds out of it.

Hm, I just realized, I'm harping about the weather again. Which means, by the logic of "get what you want, in the worst possible way", that by this time tomorrow, it will be snowing. In June. Cool.

Non News

2008-05-10T13:48:00.001+02:00

Class? Meet Fridgey. Fridgey is the newest member of my household, and I will love him and hug him and pet him and call him Florence and take him to the park until the day he dies. Okay, maybe not the park thing, because I'm afraid frolicking will get a leeetle cumbersome, what with him not moving and weighing 23 kilos. But he has Energy Efficience Class A+, so he won't waste electricity! And he is so cool and new and not smelling of God knows what this little green wrinkled thingy was that Grandma left in the last one before she died anno 2001. (No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn't get it out of the old one. I presume it was parsley.)
You think I'm a little overjoyed with my new fridge? Bah. Ever tried to live two fucking months without one? And before you ask, no, I didn't have a (functioning) freezer either. Now I have. Granted, in the tiny space I can probably only fit a chocolate popsicle and about three ice cubes, or maybe a pizza if I fold it a few times, but nevertheless, it's mine, and it's working. Whee!

I also want you to meet the second newest member of my household:
You already know Nero, his new pal is called Marty. I will not hug him too tight, though, because that would end in me becoming very surprised, then very dirty, and then very sad, in about that order. Plus, little fucker is way too fast for me to catch anyway. I will not take him to the park either, because of the predictable result.
(Oh, and before you ask, no, that's not their real cage, they just like to play in the tiny one. And destroy wooden ceilings)

As for the third new member of my household, I will not give it nicknames, and I will certainly not post pictures, because that's the one-centimeter-scar I acquired when they finally cut away my "I Can't Believe It's Not Cancer"-cyst I whined about way back in December.

Another new member of another household: Petronius is now the proud father of a tiny little girl, and hopefully, he won't break off any parts of her. I don't have any pictures of her though, because we kinda didn't talk since Mid-February (when last semester ended), and to be honest, I will not be the one forcing the issue after the whole seminar fubar. Just because we passed in the end, doesn't mean all is forgiven. I wish them the best of luck, though.

Since this all was quite non-life-threatening and/or actually good news for us, don't worry, we do fill our shittiness quota for April too, since two days after my birthday, our heating broke. The way things are going in our house at the moment is truly amazing. I fully expect to slam a door too hard next week and the wall attached to it disintegrating into dust. Oh, and in contrast to last April, which hat temperatures of 25 degrees Celsius and more, we had the coldest April in the last 15 years. Thank you, St. Peter. We really like to freeze. Anyway, since we already had planned to nenew our heating system this autumn, we skipped the fixing and went over right to the new system. Which, naturally meant 1) the very day the new heating was installed, we had the first real summer day, and 2) a full week where people I don't know make everything dirty. Whee. Not. Also? My dad insisted on buying another oil heating because "it's reliable", so I will probably rip that one out in ten years or so, because: I don't know how prices for oil are in the States right now, but our gasoline peaked from 1,24 €/litre to 1,54 €/litre in the span of three month. That's a 25 fuckin' per cent increase, if yer interested.

Last, but not least: Today is Saturday, May 10th, and my Mom's gargantuan wound? STILL not closed. Partly because our Doc needed to rip it open again, there was some dirt in the wound.

Next up on Teshik-TV: Teshik and his family make a lovely vacation to the Indian Ocean, to discover where exactly Nargis went after scorching the better parts of Burma. Wacky hijinks ensue when they accidentally stumble around Osama bin Laden's secret hideout instead. Stay tuned, kids!

Chaaaaange

2008-04-24T17:43:00.002+02:00

I guess it's finally time for me to take the time again and start to post blog entries every now and then (at least, entries that won't involve physical and/or mental breakdowns on my part)

Now that I've already driven off the sadists waiting for stories of my torment, how to antagonize even more possible readers? Hmm...Ah! Politics.

Let's have a rational and neutral discussion about your candidate debate. By which I mean, "let me ridicule your current and your possible next presidents."
At the moment, even though my TV is still refusing to receive any broadcasts, I'm still feeling bombarded by that whole "Who's da Prez"(candidate) issue. And I like to remind y'all that I don't even live on the same continent as the United States. Needless to say, I'm annoyed. Because, even if I'm well-informed about the issue, which I usually prefer in political topics, I won't have any say in the matter anyway. I do have the power to whine about, though.

Let's look at the choices you have. Your current supreme ruler isn't electable anymore. That means, since you're essentially a two-party-country, usually two candidates. I'm not including Ralph Nader or the Greens in this, because, let's face it: While Nader might have a chance of entering the Guinness Book of Records at some point (Most consecutive runnings for president, 1992 - 2036), the actual chances are rather slim, since better arguments won't win you an election, see "Re: The Dolt vs. Horseface" in 2004, and also, even the majority of votes won't guarantee you a win, see "Re: Re: The Dolt vs. Global Warming" in 2000.

Interestingly, this time, we have twist with an additional candidate, since the Democrats still haven't made up their mind yet. That leaves you with three choices: White Bitch, Black Jesus, and Old Faithful.

And now comes the tricky part: Are you able to vote for one of those candidates without those descriptive labels "Woman", "Black" or "Veteran"? The thing is, everyone has them in the back of his/her mind when deciding who is the best of them in their opinion. Yet, as soon as you point that out, you're either sexist, racist, or unpatriotic. This is fairly easy to spot once you begin to mix around.

An example: Imagine John McCain was a woman. Suddenly, his chances of becoming president begin to drop. Why? Not because of the big blond wig and the red lipstick, mind you. People have no problem electing female heads of state, The Iron Lady, or our Darth Merkel with her Weapons of Mass Distraction are the best examples. It's just that a Mrs. McCain would have the stigma of being too old. Ever seen a 71-year-old woman running around claiming a high political office? I won't say there won't be any, but as soon as they have to face elections, they have fewer chances. It's the old little saying: "When men age, they get more charming. When women age, they get more ugly". Sad, and certainly unfair, but still true.

Second example: Make Clinton male. Suddenly, she's way less "cold". Women are supposed to be more sympathetic with your issues, have that motherly attitude. It's her gender that kinda gets her the air of being a cold-hearted bitch. If a man acts cold-hearted, it's forgiven sooner, because it's more expected. If a woman does the same, it's regarded as an attack out of left field. Of course, being a woman can also be used nicely, like crying yourself back into the hearts of millions. If a man cried, he'd be out of the race in under five seconds. But don't get me wrong, if Clinton has to, she will order your Death By Airlock.

Thirdly: Douse poor Mr. Obama in a shower of bleach to make him white(Not that white though, please.), and call him Steve. Wow. Isn't he boring now? Also, he loses his ability to appear as the Second Kennedy. Plus, he predictably loses his appeal on the African-American populace. Why? Is a white male so utterly unsuitable to speak for all Americans, regardless of color? (If you answer that one with "yes", then Barack Obama is in return unsuitable for representing the Whites/Latinos/Whathaveyou, which is the majority.)
Also, Steve Obama's Speeches about the Chaaaaange the country needs, and the Chaaaaange in the government, are way less believable now. (Granted, his opponents jumped on the whole Chaaaaange train, but only because they realized it worked.). Because, if you look more closely, and strip away Obama's undoubtedly charismatic face and the whole "vision" and the youtube-videos blending him together with frickin' Martin Luther King, which just rubs me in a really wrong way, then you discover remarkably few details to his whole "Chaaaaanging America" plan. I mean, it's part of the deal that candidates try to hold the nasty details like tax raises and unpopular decisions until after the election, and McCain and Clinton are no different. But apart from the fact that Obama was against the Iraq war and him pointing fingers, "but the Bad Bad Mrs. Clinton said yes", I know little about his real political agenda. And all I do find are quotes out of the last year as a candidate, so I can't know if he's always been of those opinions, or if he just shells out everything his voters want to hear.

Oh, and another thing: Presidental candidates all try to sell that they're standing up for the Poor Lower-Middle-Class People trying to meet ends with three-and-a-half jobs. And they caaaare so much for them. Just remember two things, though:

1) Presidental candidates seldom know what lower-class or even lower middle-class means. You know McCain and Clinton are White Suburbians. And "Man of the People"-Obama? His Dad went to Harvard, his later stepdad was a manager for an oil company, Barack himself went to Indonesian private schools.
2) If you want to win an election in the USA, you have to spend the big bucks. That means you either have them yourself, or you need to get donations. Where'd you get the biggest donations? Well, corporations, and other rich people. Duh. Why will they give you the money? Because they expect something in return. Dubya was supported by big oil companies, so what will he do? Tax them for environmental destruction and use the money to create a green economy? Please. Your Li'l Shrub may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he isn't that dumb. And Clinton, Obama and McCain will have to rely on the same kind of money.

So, kids, keep those words of mine in mind when you vote, and maybe we'll end up with the Lesser Evil this time. For my part, I will wholeheartedly support Hillary. Hillary Hussein Rodham-McCain Jr., that is.

A Brave New Year - Part III

2008-03-03T10:53:00.002+01:00

No, I'm still not done. But at least, the frequency of poo hitting the fan kinda slowed down.

On Saturday, my Dad brought me some anti-emetica from the doc, because, while I was getting rehydrated, I also didn't really stop vomiting, up to the point where I actually went to my computer, gaming, and every once in a while just casually hitting pause, reaching over to the vomit bowl, expelling the tea and the zwieback, hitting resume, and continue playing. Thankfully, that stopped after a healthy dose of that stuff. By the way, if I develop a kidney failure and/or liver cirrhosis in the next two months, it will be because of that drug, because I had to guess on the right dosage part. But at least, I finally got the chance to get a good nights sleep. Or afternoon. I didn't really care, but it was a step up from "passing out" to "napping".
On Saturday afternoon, we also pinpointed the time of incubation for the virus to be about 30 hours. Because that was when my Dad came down with it, too. At least he was sensible enough to pass out in the middle of the bathroom, instead of banging his forehead.
Speaking of banged foreheads: By around Sunday I had a mini-neanderthal-brow springing up on the front, and the horn from the Thursday incident on the side. the nose ridge, especially between the eyes, was a picturesque shade of violet, branching out on my left nose side, and the cut just a millimeter next to the beginning of my eyebrows (hence the bleeding before). I regret not having shot a picture of it, because I totally could have saved it for blackmailing. ("See, Mr Police Officer? He/She/It totally kicked the crap outta me! Arrest'em!")

It's a wonder we didn't infect my sister, too. I attribute that to her very smart approach of "staying over at her boyfriend, coming home once daily. Then, feeding the cat and the budgie, verifying from a distance that Dad and I are both still breathing, and getting the hell out of here before any virus can sense her presence." Good, partly because Mom is still in the hospital, remember, and no way in hell we're dragging a highly contagious vomit-virus to a woman who just had her stomach cut open. (Well, and all the other sick people over there, I guess.)

After this horrible weekend was finally over, I had learned that:
-I lost seven kilos of weight. Considering I was already quite a skinny guy before, losing about ten percent of my body mass isn't that swell as the overweight in the audience might think. Also, I'm considering to model for the new Perfume "Anorèxique (Pour Homme)",
-my stomach muscles are so well trained now that I'm probably able to swallow walnuts whole and simply crush them afterwards,
-no matter how fat I get, it's established that I'm never, ever, EVER going for bulimia. Ever.

You know what? I'm STILL not done. Because, on Tuesday, I finally was healthy enough to get back to work, and to visit my mother. Who, as I arrived, had just had her second operation. Apparently, the totally overworked nurse staff wasn't able to constantly check on the wound if it's infected, until my mother angrily marched over to them on Monday night because the wound stank. Which was, as was discovered, a rampant infection, and the beginning of necrosis. And as I hurried over, because operation? What operation? The first thing she whispered to me was: "Look under my nightie."- Me: "What? Why?" She:"I wanna now how far they went." Because there was a chance they would remove her entire colon, and stuck her with an artificial exit. Thankfully, they didn't. But even then, she lasted the next four and a half weeks in the hospital because of that (In comparison, usually patients go home after three to five days of an appendectomy). After the second operation, they also stuck her with a vacuum pump, which helped nothing except giving her excruciating pain. The reason for doing this? This way, they don't have to change the dressing each day, only twice a week. Why thanks, assbags, to think of your patient and my mother just as another subject of cost-oriented optimization. (You can't really fault the nurses, to be honest. I've seen the eye circles of them, they were even bigger than mine. Hospital just needs at least doubling the nurses there, and fast.)

Epilogue.

-It is now the beginning of March, and only because our regular doctor insisted to change the therapy to old-fashioned, Mom's wound is starting to heal up.
-The week after I got better, my TV broke. And two additional weeks later, my Mom's TV.
-The gash in my left leg? Still not healed completely.
-Meanwhile, my sister and her boyfriend managed to journey to Poland for a quick vacation. Where they got utterly lost, and then their car broke down.
-Said sister also managed to visit the emergency room twice in February. Her back and shoulder are extremey overtaxed due to her monotone tasks at work, and on those two days, she wasn't able to move her arm or neck at all.
-By the way, have I mentioned Satyria's ex-boyfriend pressed charges against her because she allegedly assaulted and bodily injured him? I haven't? Because he did.
-The last six weeks, I've been pushing a 60 to 70 hour week, because Lord knows I haven't nearly pushed myself too far yet. First, I got up from twenty to thirty hours a week on work. (Between semesters, it's in the contract that I work longer, due to the "additional freetime available". May I laugh?) I worked about seven hours each day, followed by six hours of studying for another exam that I had to push off before to get the Exam From Hell out of my way. Now that that's over, after over ten weeks, I can finally rest for a while...Great. Now I've jinxed it. Oh well. If you'll excuse me, I have to find a nice comfy bomb shelter.

...preferably padded so I won't bang my head again.

A Brave New Year - Part II

2008-02-23T16:13:00.006+01:00

So, what do you guess could happen to Teshik on Friday?

a) missed lessons at Uni
b) missed doctor appointment
c) moderately severe bodily injury
d) people getting bitchy at Teshik for no good reason whatsoever
e) random encounters with borderline shizophrenic muppets
f) disgusting bodily fluids or
g) all of the above?

Bah, why half-assing things? "all of the above" it is.

Friday.

1.07 a.m. I wake up, look at my alarm clock, want to roll over, but I get a cramp in my foot. Hrmpf. That's uncomforta---

Mmf.
Hrmfl.
Hey, I have the taste of carpet in my mouth.
And I'm in the bathroom all of a sudden.
I'm lying in the bathroom, wedged between the toilet and the radiator.
Oh, I just realize, being in close proximity to a toilet bowl is absolutely great because *BLEAAAARGH!*

So, shortly after that, while I am merrily vomiting out my dinner, I notice that there's something in my face. Oh. Red. Red is not a good color right now. *BLEARGH*. I mean, seeing as our bathroom is predominantly green. *BLEARGH* And the corresponding red smears on the radiator aren't encouraging either. *BLEARGH* God, is that lunch on its way back already? Hm. You'd think as overcooked as the fish was, It wouldn't take him that long to be digested. *BLEARGH* Oh Ick. I just vomited out a roasted potato bit. Through my fucking NOSE! Disgusting! *BLEARGH* I am so not a happy camper right now. *BLEARGH* And considering that clock over there, I seem to miss about an hour of my life. *BLEARGH* I'm kinda hoping I can forget about this particular hour, too, though. *BLEARGH*

Finally, some pause on the vomiting. Oh, the other end wants to participate in the fun now, too! Great! (I'll spare you the sound effects of that one.). After that, I just hadn't had the nerve to check on the bleeding, because passing out on the floor seemed like such a good idea at the time. Plus, why trying to head back into my bedroom when I have to repeat the process every half hour anyway? And It's so comfy down there...

At about five o'clock in the morning, I realized several things:
1) The bleeding on my forehead stopped, but now my nose is swelling.
2) After you vomited out the contents of your gall bladder, there's nothing that can follow. (Actually, I already had learned this the hard way when I was 12, and nearly died because some shithead thought cleaning the toilets in a youth hostel is optional. But that's a story for another time.)
3) My body, even though he can't anymore, still thinks shitting and vomiting is teh bestest idea eva.
4) I must have passed out standing in our bathroom just in front of the toilet, and then crashed right against the radiator while unconscious. This also explains the memory loss and the wobbly feeling in my head. And the quite large gash on my left leg and the forming black spot on my hip.
5) I am now no longer able to stand, due to the niceties of the Norovirus fucking around with my blood pressure, and the now quite severe dehydration.
6) my dad won't get home for at least another hour to help me.
7) The floor, so comfy...

An hour later:
Dad: Teshik? Hello?
Teshik: Erh. mrhfl. dadd...dedme thoa hofpitel. im bweeding and im vomm...vommettg.
My dad says nothing, just grabs me, inspects my nose, and doesn't take me to a hospital as wished, just stuffing me back into my bed.
(Well, we are barely able to communicate with each other at the best of days, so he'll get a pass on that one.)
Plus, he gets me camomile tea. I protest weakly, because I just really really hate this part, even though I know it's coming: for the next 24 hours, it's Fun With Rehydration Time. Which means, stuff tea down your throat, hate it, vomit it out after five to fifteen minutes, and hope in the time you have just absorbed a miniscule drop of the tea you just drank. Lather, rinse, repeat. Can't I just go to the hospital and get a nice IV drip, or ten, and while we're at it, some dreamland pills? No? Crap. Oh well. At least, the dreamland pills won't be necessary, thanks to that awesome idea of getting myself two concussions in rapid succession, I had the prestige to be very...erm. Let's just say, that while my parents or my sister weren't at home that day, I still enjoyed the company of many, many colorful characters. Hallucinations included, but were not limited to:

The Little Prince: Naah-Nah-Na-Na-Nah-Nah-Nah-Nah-Na-Katamari-Damashii (Just imagine the soundtrack as a constant background noise.)
*BLEARGH*
Count von Count: That's TWO! TWO concussions on your head! A hah hah!
*BLEARGH*
Telekom Teledat 302: bee-dee-dee-bah-ding!
*BLEARGH*
The Three Sisters: Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy air.
*BLEARGH*
Me: Three Sisters? Oh no. Ooohh No!
*BLEARGH*
Phoebe: Oh yes. You know you want me little coma patient!
*BLEARGH*
Piper: Do you know how many months you're now behind on your fanfiction? Do you? Because, Mister, me and The Hands are getting pissed. And your fans are, too!
*BLEARGH*
Me: I know...wait, all my fans? You, mean, both of them?
*BLEARGH*
Piper: Err...Yes.
*BLEARGH*
Miss Pig-tronius: Why, if you'd only been more helpful at that seminar! I almost had to do work on it all by myself! Moi!
*BLEARGH*
Me: I know you're just a hallucination, but, could you shave the goatee off? It's kind of clashing with the pink clothes. and the female-muppet-ness.
*BLEARGH*

I swear, if it wasn't for the headache, the fever and the constant vomiting, I'd've had the time of my life.

At about 16.15, Our phone rings. I think it's my Dad, who just went off visiting Mom, who forgot something. Otherwise I wouldn't even go near that phone, because who wants to hear my heaves because they happen to call at an inopportune time?

Me: Hello?
Female Voice: Hello, this is the Urology office. Your operation appointment is on Monday, at 13.00.
Me: Oh, erm...sorry, but...I can't take this appointment, I'm sick. And I'm sure I will be still sick on Monday, too.
FV: Okay. But you are aware that the doctor's out of office for the next six weeks? I won't be able to get you a new appointment till then.
Me: Well, it's not exactly like I want to miss the operation, it's just that I can't. Can I...can I just phone you for a new appointment sometimes next week or so? Just...take me off the schedule for now.
FV: *does stuff on her PC* Done. We'll wait until next week then for the new appointment, right?
Me: Yes. Thanks.
FV: No problem. Oh, and get well soon.

Please note, that the conversation above was held in a very friendly, polite tone of voice. Because of this, I was really surprised afterwards. Why? The woman in question didn't put the receiver on her phone in the right way, meaning the call wasn't terminated, and I could hear the following conversation:
Suddenly Bitchy FV: *Mega-Sigh of Exasperation and Annoyance* God.
Female Coworker: What is it?
SBFV: Oh that one I just called, I gave him the appointment for Monday, and NOW he tells me he's sick and can't take it.
FC: Oh.
SBFV: And NOW I have to call [some name] again and tell her she can get here an hour earlier, even though I had told her 15.00 before.
FC: (not really listening) Yeah, that sucks.
SBFV: I mean, can't those people use the phone? Is that so hard? The nerve of...
FC: Oh! The pho---*click*
"...ne is still on, and I'm able to hear every fucking word of you dissing me?" Yeah, that must be it!
I lay on the couch, the tea thermos in one hand, the receiver in the other, the vomit bowl on the floor, and thought at first, no way. No way that woman really was that rude. But she was. And I was pissed at her.
Because, First of all, that's your fucking JOB. Deal with it.
Then, it's one lousy phone call to one guy, and scheduling a new appointment with me. It's not exactly hard, or exceptional work for a receptionist.
And getting sick happens.
Furthermore, if I happen to get sick, I will call maybe my girlfriend and the inner family circle.
"That desk clerk lady of my urologist" isn't exactly high on that list of priorities.
I think what pissed me off most was the...Well, we Germans call that one "Hinterfotzigkeit" (vulgar. More polite Germans call it "Hinterhältigkeit", but I'm not one of them). I think it's kinda more expressive and melodious than the English word "underhandedness", because underhandedness still sounds very polite and neutral to my ears. I mean, if you are annoyed that I didn't call you? SAY SO. But don't bitch behind my back, because that's just cheap and low. Or at least, don't be too stupid to put the damn receiver on your phone.

You know, these are the kind of people that always make me wonder if we actually both belong to the same species, or if my alien parents dropped me off on this planet because they really, really, REALLY hated me.
And which kinda makes me hope that, once my fifteen K'roktars of detention are over, my podmother will zoom over in her spaceship, embrace me with her gentle and moist tentacles, and tell me, because I had been such a good little Brobl'arx youngling, Dad will let me use the Death Ray tomorrow. Ah. Dreams.

Continued here.

A Brave New Year - Part I

2008-01-28T20:46:00.003+01:00

You'd think after the strain of mishaps last December, that it could only go uphill for me in the new year. And you'd be perfectly wrong.

First off, after having digested last Christmas, off to the shiny bright new year practically bristling with chances and opportunities. To get me, I guess.

January started off with me working, then getting home, then working again on the stupid presentation. Alone. The astute reader might remember that, two posts ago, Petronius promised me he would care of the oral part of the exam. YEAH. RIIIIGHT. So practically, since politely asking or bitching at him had no effect at all, I decided since I don't want to spend yet another year at uni because someone else is screwing me over, I'll just fucking do it myself. In the second January week then, Petronius kinda woke from his slumber and started to participate, which was good because, while I might be able to make the Powerpoint and prepare myself for it, he also has to be present. (I already had a plan B ready where I would've told him to play sick that day. (And a Plan C involving multiple vehicular manslaughter on my part, buuut let's not dwell on this.)) Because even he seemed to get that while I may try to drag him through this because of our friendship, there are limits of the stuff I can do.

In the end, we lucked out and passed, because 1)we were the first of seven teams, so no one could screw us with their übercompetence, and 2) all questions to the topic were answered by moi, of course. One day, I will find out how a 120-kilo-man is able to blend into the wallpaper like that, while I'm scrutinized by the professor and his aides and asked about the finer points of Likelihood-enhancing model-based stochastic search algorithms in multidimensional data sets (No, I have no idea what that means either). Oh, and 3) Someone must have either slipped a roofie or two into my professors morning coffee, or he forgot to shove his trusty umbrella up his ass, because he was mellow as hell, and didn't start to horribly deconstruct people after around the fourth or fifth team. (Well, someone has to fail in his class, I suppose). So, in the end, yay! Finally! I will be able to sleep again!

But wait, first, I have to get to my urologist. The week after the Horrible Exam From Hell, I get my very own operation! I'm, like, totally enthused about that. Because there's absolutely nothing better than having to tell your (female) boss that you can't get to work next week on Monday and Tuesday, because they're going to operate on your scrotum. Swell.
And Friday, I was supposed to visit my Anaesthesist(the last years, I only had a doc, and a dentist. By the way things are going, I will add "my Toxicologist" and "my Neurologist" to that list in no time), because he wanted to tell me all the nice little horror stories about narcosis and what can go wrong there, so that I will absolutely confident about the whole affair.
Yes, you probably noticed the "supposed" part. But I'm getting way nonlinear in the story-telling again, so to clarify things:

On Monday, it was Little Jay's third birthday. Which I couldn't attend because on Tuesday, the Exam From Hell took place. The entire Tuesday, so I lost time to work again (I have to work 20 hours each week. It's flexible to take, but after taking half of Monday off, and Tuesday again, Wednesday and Thursday suddenly looked very busy (and Friday's out of the question, due to classes I have to attend).

Also, on Wednesday was Little Jay's birthday party (Since M and D are born just two days (and two years) later, it's easy to lump the parties together, at least for now.) I came there, tired and craving for caffeine. What I got was this sentence from F: "Y'know, actually it was a good thing you couldn't come on Monday. We had no party because everyone of us had the Norovirus and we were only shitting and vomiting."
Oooookaaaay, this is kinda like ...not what I wanted to hear. But, given the past topics I had to endure in F's flat lately, and the fact that my Mom was also coming (she's the godmother of the twins, as I am to Little Jay), I was almost relieved. Because while I love my Mom very, very much, if she ever starts casually talking with S about her vibrators and their practical applications with or without my Dad in my presence, I will be leaving. By which I mean, this planet.
INNYway, thanks to an oversugared birthday cake and several cappucinos, I managed to survive this day, too. Go me! I'm on a winning streak!

Thursday. Or not. Thursday starts off at precisely 5.45 am, when my alarm clock throws me out of bed. My barely conscious body shuffles over to the nearest loo, and discovers: my mom, passed out on the bathroom floor. Suddenly, I'm not half-sleeping anymore. I wake her up, and she tells me she has spent the night vomiting. Wow. That was quick. I get her back to bed with a trusty vomit bowl, make her some tea, and tell her to sleep. I check on her before I'm leaving for work, wait long enough for my father to return from nightshift, and hurry off.

I get home at 4 o'clock. Yay me! It's not even completely dark yet! Time to check on Mom. Hm. Mom's not in her bed. She's not in the living room either. But Dad is.
T: Hey. Where's Mom? Is she better?
D: Hi. Yeah, she'll get out on Thursday.
T: Errr...out of what?
D: The hospital. (The "duh" is implied)
T: *Sigh* Could we just...start at the beginning, please?
(now you've seen how communication between me and my Dad works. And why I don't talk to him more often, in order to save brain cells.)
Anyway. Just about half an hour after I left home, my Dad called the doctor, because Mom was getting worse, as in, unusual and severe stomach pains. The doc, half an hour later, then send her to the nearest hospital. Instead of the stomach flu, she had an inflated appendix, and got operated at about 2 p.m. Which was lucky, since the thing had already been thisclose to bursting. They said she would be out of it for today, so visiting would be pointless until tomorrow. Oh well. That sucks, but at least I finally can catch a break...

...of course that means, in the very next five minutes, my cell phone rings:

F: Hey, it's me. I just bought a new laptop, and I can't get Windows installed. Can you help?
Me: Err...sure. Just drop by.

God. I am a stupid motherfucking doormat, aren't I?

So I go upstairs, and flick on my hall lamp. Or rather, I don't. Because the stupid thing has killed off yet another innocent lightbulb, upping the count to three in the past twelve months. So, get a chair, get the screwdriver, to screw off the stupid glass decor on the thing. Just like the last times. Only this time, one of the three screws holding the glass decor decides this is the perfect opportunity to snap in half. and the stupid glass thing crashes onto me, or rather, my forehead. I lose balance on the chair, slam into the nearest wall, and then onto the floor. Floor Lamp 1, Teshik 0.

About five minutes later, the following conversation can be overheard at the doorstep of my home:
F: Hi. Err...What do you have on your head?
T: (looks up) Frozen broccoli.
F: Is...there a particular reason for storing broccoli on your head, or did you just...feel like it?
T: You're an ass.
F: Yes, but I'm not the ass with frozen vegetable hatware.

We determined that I had a mild concussion, and I grew a nice little horn on the left side of my forehead, but except for the headache, nothing serious, so we got to work.

And discovered an interesting conundrum: F's laptop doesn't have an operating system. If you try and install Windows XP, it'll tell you, "I canna do this capn, there's no driver for the funky new S-ATA hard drive! Get me a driver first! And get these Klingons offa me engine room!" Okay. Getting the driver off the internet isn't that hard. But the driver installation program then tells you: "nuqneH?! This program cannot be run in DOS mode, you little P'tach! Get me a decent operating system first, and some Blood Wine! Q'apla!"

F: So...what's the diagnosis?
T: Hmm. I need enough explosives to blow up an certain moon, and a conspiracy plot to get William Shatner deported into a Sibirian prison.
F: Is that the concussion talking, or are you just messing with me?
T: The latter... I hope.

So we tried, tried, tried some more, even called the fucking shop. Who basically told us: either you can buy Windows Vista off us, or you can just keep being screwed. Thanks, you've been ever so helpful, that I'm sure I'm never buying there again, asshat. In the end, I was thisclose to install Windows XP on my USB stick, plug it into F's laptop, start it up, install the goddamn driver, and install Windows XP on the damn thing, but I had a severe headache going, and after Reenacting Star Wreck: The Undiscovered S-ATA Controller, I just hadn't the strength for Star Wreck: The Wrath Of Gates. Yet. F got home, I went to bed, because there's Uni tomorrow. Oh well. Just another day to survive, and then, finally, a weekend. I mean what could possibly happen that hasn't already happen to me this week?

Continue in Part Two when Teshik realized tempting Fate when she's currently PMSing isn't quite the great idea he thought it was.

So this is Christmas? I demand a refund. Part II

2008-01-20T17:55:00.001+01:00

Remember my shitty December last year? Yeah. That continued to a major bitchfest on Christmas Day with my family. My dad and I had a disagreement over whether he can smoke in my living room. We two had a compromise worked out in about 30 seconds. But, we then had to wait half an hour for my mom (because he still smokes, despite his rapidly declining health, my mom gets upset a lot), and then over an hour for my sister, who ran out crying because my mom had run out crying, and because my dad and I were "fighting". Tell me, is the following conversation:

Teshik enters the downstairs livingroom.
Teshik: Hey. Mom says you won't come up?
Dad: No, because you won't let me smoke. Or do you?
Teshik: No. But if you can't without, we'll play cards here instead.
Dad: Well, we need a bigger table for seven people.
Teshik: I'll get Scorpio. We'll get the old dining table out of the basement.
Dad: Okay.

fighting? Because, if so, I really need to update my vocabulary. Unless it's Opposite Day.

But Boxing Day got even better. Each year on December 26th, F and S make a fondue with a couple'o'friends, including me. We've done it for five or so years now, long enough to call it traditional, I think. (at least, it is, when all participants are below the 30-year-mark). In the last two years, our numbers considerably dwindled, however. For those of you accusing S's interesting perspective on some things for the shrinkage? I won't judge you. I won't agree with you either, though. (mainly because some day, somehow, one of my real life friends will make the connection between "Teshik" and my real life name, and I've accumulated too many death sentences already.). This year, we were only four, all old good pals.
Innyway. The fondue? Great, as usual. The gaming night afterwards? Eh...started out innocently enough. We started of with F's new Activity game, the Club edition. "Club edition" means "unsuitable for children". Because describing "condom leakage" with pantomiming? Yeah, that's aduld stuff. But good times nonetheless. Also? Those photos you get of those occasions are premium blackmail material.
But then, S dug out another game, called "Truth or Dare". It's exactly like the children version, only with, you guessed it, very adult topics. Thankfully, we left out the Dare part, because if I had to lick whipped cream off of F's manly hairy chest, I would probably write this from the inside of a prison right now. But the Truth part sufficed.
To get this into perspective, I am, or at least, I'm close to, being an asexual. Which means, basically, if you want to have sex like rabbits, go for it, woo hoo, power to the people and stuff. And as long as you don't involve animals and children, or force someone, I'd say anything is allowed if it turns you on. But don't expect me to be turned on myself. And please, please don't expect me to go all "ooh" and "aah" when you tell me about your vibrator collection, because, if you take away the "mmh, aroused" part, you get stuck with a pink dick-shaped object, where you put a battery in, and when it shakes, you insert it into a fitting body orifice. A rectal thermometer is also inserted in a certain orifice, but that doesn't mean I want to see yours. And your vibrator, even if it has a setting that makes movements "just like a fish", falls into the same category. So unless you want me to drop it into the nearest aquarium and see if it swims, drop the topic. Thank you. And that's all I want to say about the events of Boxing Day, Thanks.

Hm. Note to self: If you ever need to squick some visitors out, a visit to the nearest pet shop, and the nearest Good Vibrations will probably suffice. Heh.

You know, actually I planned to write about my current bad luck items in January, but it seems this will have to wait. But I can squeeze in that Sylvester/New Years sucked as well, because partying with my cousin bounced, he unexpectedly had to work on New Years Eve(No, he's not a nurse. Or a fireman. Believe it or not, he is a Gardener. Obviously his customers need mowed lawn on the morning of January 1st. Don't ask.). And since Scorp was picking the party this year, I wound up with no party at all. But, considering my bad luck lately, I'm glad I couldn't blunder across yet another "funny" "party game". Or be the centre of another "fight".
Yeah. That was about the end of 2007 for me. But that also means I can finally bitch about the shittiness of the year 2008. Hooray!

So this is Christmas? I demand a refund.

2007-12-24T04:52:00.001+01:00

Don't. Don't try to start to raise my spirits. Because I am not, repeat, not, in any kind of mood for anything involving bioluminescent reindeers or coca-cola figureheads, because, frankly, I've had a really shitty December.
Starting:

December 1st.
Since beginning of November, I was working at the same job I already worked in July, but I managed to get my boss to sign me up as a part-time-employee. That meant instead of roughly 350 € per month for 40 hours a week I get roughly 550 € a month for 20 hours a week now. Which, in itself, r0xx0rz. But that one was November. In December, I discovered I only received 200 instead of 500 €. Which meant, get to my employer and tell him politely but firmly to hand over my cash. Did I mention that my employer is a multinational corporation and has more departments than you can shake a stick at? and that the personnel departments are always overworked? Great, huh? Not.

December 10th.
And in the first days of December, I had other things on my mind besides that. You remember that seminar from hell that failed because of utter incompetency, not necessarily my own? Yeah, this winter I'm taking it again. and the text part was due until December 10th. This time, we were only two, Petronius and me, so I thought, hey, this is way better this time. This is what I thought in September. And in October. By November and repeatedly kicking Petroniuses ass, I began doubting. Because, aside from a little Google searching on the subject, he consequently avoided to contribute. Which meant that by December 3rd, a date when I wanted to have the text part (about 30 pages) to be ready, and not to be half-assed, the 20-odd pages already written were 100 % from me alone.
And since Petronius wouldn't answer his phone, I had to resort to email-spamming to finally get his attention. Who answered me that
a) I don't have to be so rude
b) He had better things on his mind, like marrying and his pregnant wife
c) Work is a bitch currently
d) I thought you had already evicted me from our team, I just waited for you to say so
e) Hey, we still have a whole week to hand in that text

To which I responded:
a) I was polite in September, October, and November. I didn't get a response past "Yeah, I'll get on it" and "Oh, I already thought about that, but I haven't written anything down yet".
b) Why, thanks to withhold those minor life-changing information, fucknugget. Oh, and bonus for being bitchy because I'm less than totally überhappy at the divulgence of those news. And: Your girlfriend, now wife, is in the 6th fucking month. That's at least five months to get over it, celebrate, realize it might get a little stressed around winter, and TELL ME.
c) Well, guess what, I'm working too. And you know what? If you already know that each December you have workload up the wazoo, you could try and get us the work done before you're loaded.
d) THE FUCK? That's your excuse for not doing anything? And furthermore, you decide to hole up so I can't reach you, and expect me to reach the conclusion I'm now alone all by myself? Also, it's a TEAMWORK, Ass. I can't do it without you, so if you want to back out, tell me beforehand, goddammit.
e) In this week we still have to write 10 critical pages, and since you haven't even read the literature, I know I can't count on you to do something. Plus, if you'd answered my previous mails, you'd know I'm off at a two-day workshop with my department, and won't be able to do anything in that time.

So, In the end, we did manage to return a paper that's more or less half-assed, because instead of properly researched, we have a mixture of 85 % proper, but badly formulated (me), and 15 % general drivel that's not backed up by sources (him). Great. And the best part: He apologized to me for not participating so much, so the oral part of the seminar (we have to present it in mid-January, too) will be 80 per cent by him, so it evens out in the end, he said. Do you think he did anything without me kicking him, again, again, and AGAIN? No, of course not.

December 12th.
You dislike dentists? Me too. I am one of those lucky persons with a so-called dental phobia. Thankfully, my new dentist knows that (the old one just told me I was a big pussy, which is probably a reason I feared dentist in the first place. Plus, all fillings he gave me had to be replaced because he was incompetent), but still, dentist visits are a thing I fear. And I fear them even more when I go for a semi-annual routine checkup and he goes "oh, there's caries. oh, and another one here. Oh, and another almost reaching the nerve!". Oh, hooray!

December 15th.
I get home to my three little budgies. From left to right: Stevie, Micky and Nero. Micky and Nero are about five years old, Stevie (or, the Dwarf, as he's usually called) is at least fourteen, I got him from a friend of mine, who got him from a friend, and his real birthdate got lost somewhere inbetween. You already guess where this is going? Good.
The Dwarf always wasn't a good flyer compared to the other two, which usually led to hilarious moments of him hitting the nearest wall and/or my potted plants. On Friday night, I got at home, the birds merrily going on with their business (of eating my wallpaper, destroying my woodpaneling, shitting on my carpet, you know, the adorable little things you love them for), until I hear a *ploc*. Oh, so they tipped over one of my books in the shelf again, did they? No. The Dwarf had decided to move on from "flying" to "falling".
You think the gruesome story is over, and I'm left to pick a nice hole for burial? Noo. That came a whole day later, after the vet told me "he's that old? bah, nothing we can do", and after the poor little, innocent muffin died in my hand, obviously pained, and scared. The dying took so long I actually considered to put him out of his misery by myself. Would you be able to do something like that to your pet? I certainly couldn't.

December 17th.
Oh, crap. Christmas Shopping! I totally forgot about that!

December 21th.
Here, I have to be actually relieved. Relieved, although in January, I'm scheduled for an operation, which will take me out for two days. Why am I supposed to be happy about it? Because the urologist told me that the lump growing near my scrotum isn't cancer. No, I shit you not, yes, I am telling the truth. After several gruesome cancer deaths in the family, one does get suspicious with lumps, and does get thankful for being wrong in those suspicions. (FYI, it's a cyst, which means it's non-malignant, but it will cut off the blood supply to my precious reproductive organs soon if it isn't removed.)

December 23rd.
Usually, I'm at F's flat about once each weekend, gaming, watching telly, generally hanging out. This month, due to the stress at work and with uni, I had to call and tell him I can't come the first three weeks. Yesterday, I spared the time, partly because I wanted to give F the Christmas present for little Jay. What did I get in return: F's wife S bitching at me because I didn't giftwrap it (I gifted Jay with a little 15-pieces-puzzle, and chocolate. Why giftwrapping those?), and because I dared to gift Jay with chocolate, which hasn't been a problem for the whole past year, but is suddenly now an issue. And later, she bitched at me because "if you don't want to be here with us, just say so. But don't lie to us with shitty excuses, because that's really low." THE. FUCK. LADY?!?!? I'm sorry I wasn't here the past three weeks, but I don't lie to my best friend, thank you, and it's not like I'm contractually bound to drop by every other Sunday. At first, I tried to argue, but she really wouldn't listen, and I didn't want to pick a fight with the wife of my best friend in front of three little children. Plus, I was beginning to feel really tired and kinda woozy, which was the onset of a cold. By the time I got home, despite an aspirin from F, I had a splitting headache, and I'm still having it on...

December 24th.
Today morning, I gathered myself despite my headache and blocked nose, and finally readied myself for Christmas(in Germany, you already get the presents on the Holy Night, not on Christmas Day), thinking, it was a shitty month, but you should look past it, smile a little, and get into the spirit. So I began gift-wrapping, the two birds sitting in their cage in the living room. I returned from the gift-wrapping half an hour later, and stopped a little. Only one bird? Where's Micky? Oh, he's at the bottom...of the cage...and he's not breathing.
So, my funny Christmas activity after giftwrapping was to dig another hole in the backyard, while the earth was frozen rock-hard, and I had to be careful not to accidentally dig out the other bird I buried just eight days prior.
And you know what? I've had it now. Fuck you, Santa Claus, go elsewhere, our chimney is closed for the duration. Because "not dying of cancer (this year)" and "hey, you still got one budgie left" isn't exactly getting you an A on your customer satisfaction sheet.
And it's a little early for New Year's resolutions, but I already got some:

1) exercise more, eat less chocolate.
2) find better friends. The ones you have aren't cutting it.
3) the next pets you're getting are turtles. Those with the lifespan of 200 years. And if that doesn't help, try rocks.
4) find a cure for the common cold. Or at least, the headaches caused by them. Because, annoying.
6) broker world peace. Or begin nuclear warfare. Whichever's easier.
6) get a shrink, and make him weep.

Merry Fucking Christmas, kids.

Ye Rhandome Shyte

2007-11-14T17:26:00.001+01:00

Ever had one of those mornings? You know, one of those where your alarm clock kinda awakes you, but not entirely? I hate those. Because a) I never seem to get awake the whole day afterwards, and b) they usually interrupt very vivid dreams. And I don't get the usual dreams everybody has, like standing naked in front of my classmates/friends/coworkers kind of stuff, nooo. I get the really surreal shit that makes poo-flinger Dali look like a respected member of society.

I mean, first off, I incorporate my alarm clock into my dreams. Okay, probably everyone does that. But as a ringing doorbell, or a telephone, and that would be way too mundane for the black hole that's my brain. No, I have our cat beep at me. Or my sister, which made me think for a moment that dreams are now FCC-regulated. Or did you ever had a dream where you stared with a raised eyebrow at your cappucino cup, because it emanated a mesmerizing "bip-beeep-beeep-beeep-beeep-beeep"?

Plus, dreams kind of reveal my sadistic streaks. In one dream, me and my family got off a plane, because we'd just relocated to Mars, when my father suddenly got hit by a man-sized meteor. And because I am such a nice boy and caring son, The only thing I manage to say is "That's bad. I mean, he pays our rent an'all." Then, two ex-classmates of mine show up, of the kind I never liked. I just think "Hey, it would be so awesome if those two were hit, too", and what do you know? Combo! Fatality! Teshik advances to Level "Lucid Dreaming"! And manages to hit his incompetent ex-boss with another one and a very satisfying "Splorch" before he wakes up. And lies in his bed at 3 a.m., giggling like a madman at the ridiculousness of it all.

In another one of'em, I met Li'l Toby. Li'l Toby was a very stereotypical orphan child, I have to add. And a stupid one to boot. Well, at least he wasn't trying to shine my shoes or sell me the newspapaper. And, true to the form of cheap fifties tv series, Li'l Toby soon fell down a well. No, really. No, really.
But I knew somehow that since the well ends in a pipe system of the toilets in our house and that one ends on the river(don't bother with the logistics, it's still a dream we're talking about. Just tell yourself the pipes were big enough for Li'l Toby.), so I walked calmly to said river, ready to get the brat out, when I realized, hey, it's fucking winter. The river's frozen. So I had to rescue Li'l Timmy or whatever, when there's a twenty centimeter ice layer between him and the oxygen he kinda needs. And neither the damn hairy dog nor that stupid dolphin were anywhere in sight. Or Knight Boat, for that matter (There's always a fjord...). So, I'm running on the surface, li'l Jamie floating just underneath me making urgent gestures, and I'm hacking away at the ice with my boomerang, as I get pulled out of it by my alarm clock, leaving the orphan drowning and me sitting on my bedside, feeling confused and kinda guilty. And yes, I do recognize the psychological implications on the losing the orphan part, but can anyone explain the boomerang to me? If it helps, it was bright neon green.

Today, I was dreaming that I was getting my diploma, like, fuck yeah. Then, I get to my first job, which was advertised as "Usual Office Stuff and ...". And because Dream Teshik is as stupid and naive as Real Teshik, I took the job, and the next thing I knew, I was locked into a room with some demotivated colleagues, one of them boredly remarking: "Oh. It's melting again." What's melting? Why, we're talking about the meltdown at the local nuclear power plant of course. Of. Course. And with my diploma in Computer Science and Business, I'm like, totally qualified for that one.
But, no problem, I get to that control board all maestro-like, ready to - I dunno, depolarize the uranium, or whatever? - when I notice my car keys are missing. Which I really need to drive that control panel. (Don't ask. I certainly don't). And now, the thing starts beeping, as in, Shit's Happening, Dude. Unfortunately I realize at that point the annoying beeping is my clock again, so I didn't get to find out if my colleagues did handle it without me. But considering said colleagues included 1) an ex-classmate of mine who failed his abitur, twice, 2) Astronaut Teacher Christa McAuliffe, and 3) Twop-co-inventress Sars, who has a degree, but I don't think in Nuclear Engineering - I am a leeeetle inclined to think the mission might not turned out that well.

So, if you're going to sleep today and all you can dream about is an utterly devastated nuclear wasteland and a horribly mutated Sadie the Fire Safety Tomato, just remember: it's all Mrs McAuliffe's fault.

Oh, and since we're on the topic of random shit: When you're googling for what Sigmund Freud might think of Salvatore Dali, you may end up at a site like this. So if you're ever wished for a Chibi doll of Mao Zedong, your dreams just came true, for only $ 5.99 . For what you could possibly use a Mao Zedong or a Frida Kahlo Chibi doll, you ask? I don't know, but I won't judge you. (Partly because I so want that Einstein one. He's so cute! But smart, too! And totally Chibi!!)

And you know what's the best part of the internet? You can even google "random shit" and get results: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwm3yzPLAV4

So, enough insanity. For now. Heh.

Call me Kassandra.

2007-10-07T19:30:00.001+02:00

Or Kassander? Kassandrus? Kassius? Hm. Nah.

Okay, the good news is: I am apparently gifted with the Second Sight. Because right after predicting an earthquake in South East Asia in my last post, Sumatra was shook up by an 8.4 magnitude quake just the day after. (Thankfully, no tsunami this time)
The bad news? Apparently, prediction number two came true only two fucking weeks afterwards.

Tuesday morning, 6.30 a.m., about ten minutes before I have to leave for work, my mom comes in. And she is looking at my with That Face. That awful face I saw quite too many times already. That face telling you to make a quick rundown on all your family members and close friends, remember their age, habits and eventual diseases, and start the lottery, and think the dreadful thought of hoping the winner is someone you dislike, because said winner? You won't have to deal with him/her again, ever, because he/she won the one-way ticket straight to Hell, do not pass Go, to not collect 200 bucks, no refunds.
So while I'm collecting the various members out of my grandfather's generation I still have after the death orgy of 98-01 in my head, I ask the awful question:

Teshik: Who?
Mom: Uncle [Wulfman].

First thought: Wait a minute. Dad's uncle [Wulfman] already died over ten years ago, didn't he? Plus, we weren't that close...
Second thought: ...and we don't have any other [Wulfman]'s in the family, except for my uncle, who was named after him...
Third thought: ...oh. CRAP.

My uncle, dad's brother, is - was - barely fifty. We only held sporadic contact for several years now, because of a major fallout between my mother and my uncle's wife, who I will call Walpurga, during yet another funeral. But weird as we all are, family is always family.

So Walpurga and my mom had their first phone call for several years Tuesday morning? No. My Mom read the obituaries in the newspapers, to learn her brother-in-law had been dead for SIX DAYS. And the funeral was to take place on Thursday.
And bear in mind that Wednesday, October 3rd is Reunification Day, so no work, and because of this short notice, it wasn't possible for me or Scorpio to get a day off so we could attend the funeral set at 1 p.m., and my sister only managed that because she had to work on Wednesday, the national holiday, (her shitty workplace is a post-worthy topic for another time).

The best part? My Dad, who's really close with his brother, was already at work that day, and we knew that a) he usually isn't reachable there by phone, and b) he reads the same paper, including the obituaries, during his break. Boy, was there a juicy surprise for him waiting.

So, after work, we scrambled to get a wreath, and notify the rest of the family, who wasn't informed either. One would've understood Walpurga doesn't want to deal with my Mom, since they positively hate each other, but apparently no one of our side of the family was informed, except for her children (who naturally assumed Walpurga would tell us. Or at least, someone.). Only Walpurga's family already knew. So it seems her plan was to have only her "good" family around, and our part of the tree, who she never held high regard for in the first place, would exhibit bad form by not even showing up to give her husband the last honor, cementing for all time what shitheads we actually are. Gods, I am so fucking mad at this woman I want to slap the stupid out of her with a baseball bat. And then throw piss into her fucking face.

So after we've already buried everyone in my grandfather's generation, and after burying Dad's sister in 2005, I guess it's now about time my father's generation thins out. Sometimes I think I should just stay in the black clothes, get some decent pale makeup, go goth and be done with it already.

Partly I wrote this post to rant about my asshole aunt. Partly because I wasn't at my uncle's funeral and didn't have the chance to properly say goodbye. So I'm doing this now, in the most public way possible.

Hi du. Tut mir leid, daß ich nicht bei deiner Beerdigung dabei sein konnte. Ich steh zwar auf dem Kranz für dich mit drauf, aber ich war noch nicht bei dir am Grab, das werd ich diese Woche noch nachholen, versprochen. Ich werde mir auch einen hübschen Stein für dich aussuchen. Vielleicht so einen rotblonden mit grauen Streifen drin, so wie dein Schnurrbart.
Ich hab dich ganz doll lieb. Und ich werd dich tierisch vermissen. Grüß Oma und Opa von mir, ja? Auf Wiedersehen.

Erde zu Erde.

Asche zu Asche.

Staub zu Staub.

The more things change

2007-09-11T16:45:00.001+02:00

Six years ago.

Today.
7.31 a.m.

Teshik: Good morning, sunshine.
Satyria: Good? Your privileges to call me sunshine are hereby revoked.
T: On what grounds? ...Monkeybutter?
S: I hate you. On the grounds that I have to deal with a shitty Japanese today.
T: What the hell do you have to do with Japaneezers?
S: Only one of them. I'm reviewing the corporate review of Miss Takashima, and she's not going to like it. And she's already pissy at me because I didn't start my last mail to her with "thank you, and I love you, and I'm going to die of breast cancer."
T: Well, it was awfully inconsiderate for you not to kiss Miss Tamagotchi's feet. At least not verbally, I don't think she expects you to make the 12-hour-flight to do it for real... at least, not yet.
S: She's called Takashima. Don't do this to me.
T: Whaddaya mean?
S: I'm going to confuse the alias with the real name and make an ass of myself again. It was embarassing enough with...with...you know, Mr Zucchini. That Italian guy. I never remember his real name now.
T: Heh. Well, if it helps, I'm countering your review on a review with a presentation for a presentation. Apparently, according to our CTO, we volunteered to present our department at a meeting at the end of the month. We were kind of surprised, and mildly annoyed. And I have to be the creative guy who presents the team with "fresh" and "promising" perspectives tomorrow. Needless to say, I'm less than thrilled.
S: How does one volunteer without doing the volunteering part?
T: He's the CTO. We're not.
S: Ever get the feeling we're some escapees of a Dilbert cartoon?
T: Frequently, dear Alice, but Dogbert told me that's just a phase.

Later, around 2 o'clock. (We do actual work at work, too, you know. Amazing, but true. )
T: I swear, I'm going to kill a priest any time now.
S: Huh? What crawled up your ass?
T: Remember the church directly across the street of my office building?
S: Yeah?
T: The bell is ringing.
S: You know, church bells do that sometimes.
T: But not all the fucking time.
S: You know why they're ringing.
T: Don't say it. Don't even type it. It is The Day Who-must-not-me-named. And if they're going to commemorate the shit, they could at least use the real time scale. Or, start in the afternoon, when I'm about to leave, not at nine a.m., or three in the morning for New Yorkers. And not, I repeat, not simply start and stop the bell at random intervals. And you don't do it UNTIL FUCKING TWO IN THE AFTERNOON! It's driving me nuts.
S: What happens when I name the day who must not be named?
T: Don't. Or I swear, I break out the fucking Enya.
S: Bring it, weenie. *ahem* Nine-Eleven. World Trade Center.
T: *sings* Let mee sa- heeel, let mee sa- heeeel, let the orinoccoflo, let mee reee- heeech, let me beee- heeech... *bum* dääää, *bum* däääää, *bum* däääää duh... selaway, selaway, selawayyyy...
S: ACK!
T: Don't say I didn't warn you.
S: I wasn't expecting this particular piece of shit. I was prepared for : Whooooooooocaaaannnnsaaaayyyywheeeereeetheeeerooeeedgoessss... um-bah-dibpu-dibpu-dibpu. You know, the usual.
T: I know you too well for that.
S: I will remember it. A propos remembering: Dear Sir or Madam, did you know that today is International Plane Day? Share with us your heartwrenching story of you sitting in the kitchen filing away your toe warts. What were YOU doing when "it" happened, those thirty-two quadrillion years ago when the world was still flat and dinosaurs roamed the earth and gas was cheap and we were young and innocent?
T: Plane Day. Hee. - You know? Six Years ago? I was talking to you. In the same company we are right now, only in different departments.
S: ...
T: What? I did.
S: ...Yeah, but...wow. This is depressing.
T: That proves it. Time really does flow in circles.
S: Crap. I'm going to keep shitty hair for at least a year now.
T: But you? Don't have to break out the funeral wear.
S: Hmmm. Does that mean your dad has cancer again?
T: He didn't have, I told ya. But if it helps, he has COPD and refuses to quit smoking.
S: We're both here again, I'm having an awful haircut, your dad's sick...okay, spooky. and it's 14.36 now, sooo...impending doom, starting in ten minutes.
T: If a terrorist is stupid enough to hit my office building? Tell F he still owes me the twenty bucks, and such simple things as me dying doesn't absolve him. Oh yeah, and that I love everyone and shit.
S: And if the earth opens and swallows the hall I'm in? Tell everyone I strangled at least three of my coworkers and Miss Takashima before going down.
T: "Satyria was a dangerous psycho." Got it. So. T Minus three minutes.
S: I wonder what it will be. I'm guessing volcano. South America.
T: I'm betting Earthquake. South East Asia. Followed by tsunami, again, some more. And the best part? No one will care because actual news would disturb the Remembrance Holiday in New York.
S: Good one. So, impending doom in five...four...three...two...one...Bingo.
T:...
S:...
T: Either the shockwaves of the H-Bomb Dubya just dropped on us take longer than I thought, or no boom today. Maybe Boom tomorrow.
S: You sound disappointed.
T: No boom means "Teshik has to do the fucking presentation tomorrow and won't get out of office until half past four."
S: I see your point. Hey, but you know, we could already be dead. If the sun exploded at 14.46, we won't know until 14.52.
T: One can only hope.

So, what do you know? Even September 11ths can end on a happy note. Or at least, with a different attitude. Happy Plane Day, folks.

History lesson - The Schießbefehl fairy tale.

2007-08-17T13:51:00.001+02:00

Are any of you 18 years old or younger at the moment? In that case,

1) I am now entitled to call you "young whippersnappers" and crap like this, because I'm nine years older than you and thus, out of your teenager perspective, practically ancient, and

2) I feel I have to educate you about an actual news story circulating in Germany at the moment, and the load of history behind it. Because I believe in the motto "one who doesn't know history is doomed to repeat it."

As we all know, Germans practically invented historical mistakes. Failed democratic revolution? Yeah, us. Beating the shit out of France? Still us. Starting a whole freaking world war (and even worse, having the audacity of losing that one)? Us, totally. Not getting the hint and attacking the whole world again? Yeah, we're the ones. (and that enumeration is only of the last 150 years, and leaves out the worst part.) We kinda have a very slow learning curve.

History can be fun, as long as you ain't the person caught in the middle.

(Note: I know it's quite long. Think of it as a educational fable that happens to be true.)

Once upon a time in the ancient past of 1962, there was a young bloke, called Peter Fechter, and his pal, Helmut Kulbeik. Peter and Helmut were bricklayers, or rather, bricklayer apprentices. What an exciting job for two 18-year-olds, don't ya think? Peter and Helmut must've thought otherwise.
They also had some other interesting thoughts. Such as, "I'm allowed to disagree with some people". Or "I wanna have the right to vote". Or "I want to go into a store and buy the food I want, not just the canned tuna that's here this week". Silly Peter and Helmut, don't you think? All those luxuries. And freedom of speech, such jokesters.
Because Peter and Helmut, like many people, had the misfortune of being born in a really assy part of the world. That part of the world was called "Deutsche Demokratische Republik" (German democratic republic). Sounds much nicer than "Bundesrepublic Deutschland"(federal republic of Germany), don't you think? Because it has "democratic" in its name.
Peter and Helmut didn't quite think so. In fact, many people thought the GDR was crap in a tin-can, and left. This, however, drew the attention of the Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht. The Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht was so democratic he continuously got voted with 99 %. Because, you see, Peter and Helmut were lying when they said they couldn't vote. They just had to vote for the party of the Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht, because there wasn't any other.

And because the Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht was so benevolent, he was very, very sad when all the young folk turned their backs on him and left the "sozialistisches deutsches Arbeiterparadies" (the socialistic german worker's paradise). "Why are they leaving? This is my worker's paradise! They even get cans of tuna!", the Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht said.

But since he was very wise, he had an idea. The Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht build a wall so that his stupid subjects, er, I mean democratic voters, wouldn't go into the very dangerous and hostile countries of the west. The Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht didn't tell his voters of his project first, because he knew they often had strange ideas about stuff, just like Peter and Helmut. So he told them, "Niemand hat die Absicht, eine Mauer zu errichten." (no one has the intention of building a wall). But he did. On August 13th, 1961, he stopped all traffic within a city, and build a wall around half of the city, because only half of this city was his. The other half belonged to the enemy. The wall was called "antifaschistischer Schutzwall" (anti fascist protection wall), because he wanted to protect Peter and Helmut and all the others from having strange and stupid ideas ever again.

But Peter and Helmut did have a stupid idea. One year later, on August 17th, 1962, after they finished working, they wanted to climb over the wall and get into the part of the city that was dangerous and fascist and capitalistic.
Helmut got over the wall. Peter however, couldn't. It may have been one of the 30 bullets perforating him that kinda impeded his climbing ability. For the Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht had told his soldiers to prevent his voters from having strange ideas at all costs.

But Peter wasn't dead yet. He lay just 1 metre off the enemy city, hunched against the wall, and called out for help. Now, the soldiers on both sides had a problem. The fascist American soldiers who patrolled the Border for their fascist German friends couldn't help Peter because he still was in the East part. Going there with soldiers? No, that means war, not with the Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht, of course, but with the Even Wiser And More Benevolent Emperor Nikita Sergejewitsch Chruschtschow. So the American soldiers stood there and did nothing.

The Soldiers of the Workers Paradise couldn't do anything either, because a) the Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht had forbidden them to go into the zone he had humourously named "Todesstreifen"(death stripe), so that his soldiers didn't get bad ideas themselves. And b) several soldiers of the Workers Paradise had been shot dead by the fascist Germans, so everyone was reluctant to go into the death stripe himself.

And so, Peter Fechter lay against the wall and bled. Not silently, but complaining loudly. At least, at first. The people of the Worker's Paradise weren't allowed near the wall, of course, but thousands of people of the Fascist Federal Republic were watching him. They wanted to help, but the Americans would shoot them if they crossed the border. Or the soldiers of the Wise And Benevolent King Ulbricht. Probably both.
So, Peter gave up his pleas for help after a while. The massive internal bleeding over the last hour may have contributed to his acceptance of fate. After he had lost consciousness, the soldiers of the Workers Paradise were brave enough to step into the death stripe, and pull Peter back into the GDR where he belonged. Nevertheless, Peter died in the hospital later. He wasn't the first, and certainly not the last person to have a stupid idea up until 1989.

---

Now y'all are probably wondering, "nice horror story, but what the fucking fuck this has to do with current events, Teshik?"

Well, the news story itself is waaaay less spectacular. It seems someone has found a dusty old document that proves GDR soldiers were ordered to shoot upon people should they try to escape via the German-German border. There is an uproar on this. Seemingly, people are starting to forget that the people ruling the GDR were lying sacks of shit, and start to believe them when they say "there has never been an order to shoot people".

People tend to forget. And, more important, people tend to forget the bad stuff first.
When people wax nostalgic about the GDR, you'll probably hear about that there wasn't any unemployment, and lower rates of crime, and all those nice marches of the socialist party, and nude culture, and better childcare, and women's rights, and their first car, a trabi.
But the GDR wasn't all sunshine and lollypops. Sometimes, politicians are lying liars who lie, but the facts stay what they are. The GDR spied on their own people, imprisoned them, and ordered their soldiers to shoot people trying to escape from all this. Men, women, and children died at the Mauer. Just because that happened twenty or more years ago, doesn't mean you can forget the bad stuff.

Forum Basics

2007-08-08T11:01:00.001+02:00

"Hi dunno if this is the right place but i thought i just ask do you have a forum for fanfic please tell me i want to read some that would be awsume thanks"

"Hey where can I get the game discs for <this'n'that game> I, uh, lost my originals. Yeah, that's it."

"Hi im new hear cud u plz sent me sum picz of my faverite actor i lik him so varry much OMG tis si so cul!11!!!1!!! "

"omg d00d you're site t0tally suckz u r teh stupidest pers0n on this planet lol"

Recognize some of these? Quite probably, since these are, like, one third of all forum posts in the entire internet. And since I'm fed up with these repeat offenders spamming and creating unnecessary traffic, I'll try an education effort.

Note: No, I am not ranting about my dear friends at the Charmed Sons or TwoP, I do browse other forums, too, you know? I'm just ranting about idiots on the internet in general. Lord knows there's enough of'em.

Lesson 1 - The Golden Rule

Confuzius said it, Jesus said it, Muhammad said it, it's in the Torah and the Mahabharata, and quite frankly, it's the base of common sense in social interaction. If everyone would apply it, George W. Bush, Mahmud Ahmadinejad, and Kim Jong Il could proclaim World Peace in a press conference the very next day.

Treat the others like you want to be treated yourself.

Deep shit, dude. Also, it's not that hard to apply. And if you apply it, then Eeeebony aaaand Iiiiivory live together in peeerfect haaaaarmony....don't worry, I'll stop singing now.

Lesson 2 - The Basic Idea of Interpunction

sometimes sentences end that's just the way it is there's no reason to worry though because the internet doesn't have a I only take one sentence post function if you read up until this part you probably might have noticed that it's kinda hard to follow the text because it's not always perfectly obvious where one sentence ended and where the next one begins so if you'd just start using those commas and points on your keyboard I would really appreciate that thanks

Lssn 3 - Typg cmplt wrdz wl n/kill teh net. Or ur keyb.

Rly. T wn't. U no?

Lassen 4 - Now ur lengridge.

Did you know that "they're", "their" and "there" have completely different meanings in the English language? Astounding, isn't it. Even more astounding is the fact that two thirds of the people reaching the forums from the United States are apparently completely unaware of this phenomenon. I'd make a Dubya crack here, but: Nah.
The point is, no one expects you speak flawless English. I'm a non-native-speaker myself, and I'm still having trouble with those stupid prepositions sometimes. But you could at least try. If I could understand the difference between "your" and "you're" as a ten-year-old, I am confident you can do the same. I have faith.

LESSON 5 - COULD YOU PLEASE TURN DOWN YOUR STEREO?

TYPING LIKE THIS IS REALLY NOT APPRECIATED. WANNA KNOW WHY? IT IS THE NET EQUIVALENT OF SCREAMING. AND WE'RE NOT DEAF. AT LEAST, WE WEREN'T UNTIL YOU SHOWED UP.

Lesson 6 - Hey! Look! I can totally change the fonts 'n color 'n shit!

Hey! Look! I will totally ignore you now because not only did you make your post completely unreadable, you also exhibited the maturity of the average six-year-old! And everyone else will ignore you, as well!

Lesson 7 - Google is not out to kill your firstborn.

One of the most important lessons, ever. About 90 per cent of useless questions could be avoided if people just relied on search engines instead of annoying others. You don't like Google because it collects important data about you? Well, get used to the program, and since you're most likely from That Country With That Patriot Act, Google finding out what you wanted to buy on Ebay is really, really the least of your problems with freedom.
Or, even better, you use Altavista, Yahoo, the MS fucking N search engine or one of the bazillion others.

Lesson 8 - know thy surroundings.

Imagine it like this. Instead of the swinger's club you are aquainted with, you accidentally stumble into the nearest book club. Imagine the others surprised looks when you casually take off your pants and start rubbing your body against the nearest girl or guy. After that, things most certainly get awkward. And people tend to call the police.

See? So if you want to talk about your homoerotic fantasies, www.ihatefags.com is probably the wrong place. Likewise, no one wants to hear your faszinating theories regarding Warcraft strategy if you're posting it in a forum dedicated to the mating habits of the several species of Pelicanidae in South America.

Hint: You don't have to boast into every forum you possibly find, only the ones you're interested in.

Lesson 9 - Please do not feed the troll.

You're in a forum dedicated to, say, the incredibly interesting hobby of collecting paperclips. (Dear people of paperclips.com - Don't judge me.) Suddenly, some newbie uses his very first post to barge in on your discussion with the startling fact that paperclips collections cause your penis to shrink and everybody affiliated with that hobby is actually a child molester. In response, do you:

a) Rebutt that idiot by telling him his momma is a total whore, because she, like, slept with your neighbours poodle the other day
b) Try to reason with the confused individual, patiently explaining in excruciating detail the joys of your paperclip hobby, rallying your friends to defend the paperclipper's honour
c) Run instantly to the moderator, screaming bloody murder and insist the offender's account is to be vaporized immediately, annoying the crap out of the poor soul who moderates your board in his/her freetime for no compensation at all
d) Simply fail to rise to the bait, causing the Troll to starve, wither, and die, and we all live happily ever after.

Lesson 10 - No, I really have cancer this time. Really.

Generic Forum. The poster having the moniker "SeemsLikeANiceGirl" posts in a new thread: "I just returned from my doctor. He said I have cancer in the last stage. I have only six months to live."
Naturally, the thread soon is full of well-wishes, "oh-you-poor-girl" and the like. If you monitor it more closely however, the more senior forum members, and the admins, refrain from posting in that thread. Surely they just haven't seen it, or are too busy, you say. No one is so heartless as not to react to that.
If you follow up the next weeks, there are no further posts by SeemsLikeANiceGirl. Nothing relating how the symptoms progress, how she's coping, if she's even still alive, nothing. Absurdidly, forum life goes on, no one even seems to care. Why this? There's a poor soul suffering somewhere!
Fast forward a few months later. A forum poster called SeemsLikeANiceGirl posts: "I just had a call from my doctor. She says I have Leucemia and I have only one year to live."

What happened? Easy. That's a troll, too. They come in quite some variants: "My dog got run over by a car." - "I have the AIDS. (of course, by blood transfusion after a horrible accident)." - "My brother-in-law works on the set of VeryFamousTelevisionShow and I have been behind the scenes several times now. I know all the insider scoop." - "I live in the Center of a war zone and my life is constantly in danger." - "I am the neighbor of Angela Merkel and I know what underwear she wears. "(eww) - "I am dying of syphilis, and also, my daughter just got hit by a bus." - "I once saved three orphans from drowning, and nobody thanked me." - "I am in talks with producers of NotYetProducedTelevisionShow, and am confident we will be on FOX in the Fall season with the virtual season I am writing".

Yeah. Riiiiight. As with the more obvious variety of trolls: Starve them.

Lesson 11 - Just because Daddy pays your Internet provider, doesn't mean everything on the Internet is free.

Yeah, of course you did just lose your cd. And your codebook. And your manual. And while we're at it, your extremely legal collection of mp3's.
But either you suck it up and buy the damn game, or acquire the necessary H3xx0r sk1llz to steal it from some shady site. But don't annoy the posters who just want to chill out talking about their games.

N00b.

Lesson 12 - Häy A Grrrrl Letz cyber !!1!1!!!1

Look, I know. You're male, you're a geek, and your expertise of the female anatomy consists of that cartoon I saw the other day, where Sailor Mercury is flashing her boobs and seductively waving with a dildo, telling me I can <japanese symbol> her <japanese symbol> if I only pay 699 Yen per <japanese symbol>(Err. Hint: clicking on random links in a language you don't understand can be REALLY hazardous for your mental health sometimes. 'Nuff said.)
Where was I? Oh, yeah.
But comments like those in the title don't make it exactly easy for the non-nerd faction (of both genders) to consider you mature enough to warrant a continued conversation, instead of a well-deserved "Fuck off and die."

Lesson 13 - We're about as interested in your genital warts as everyone else is.

No, seriously. No, seriously. No, don't post pictures. Please. And remember that sometimes your internet friends can be as grossed out by you as your real-life friends are. Go find the appropriate forum if you want to talk about it. (And since I just found out that buttfuck dot com is a real internet address, I'm quite sure there's an appropriate forum for your more... special... needs, too.)

Lesson 14 - Now if only I could figure out how to click this link...

I find it amazing sometimes. There are people out there who, while not really figuring out how to operate their opposable thumbs, are somehow able to log into this newfangled "Interweb" and - you guessed it - annoy. Here's a particularly good example:

I have a little webspace at my uni where I have uploaded some uni scripts and cheat-cheets, just so people don't have to search as long to find them as I had to. One day, I receive an email with the following sentence in it:

"Well, I would have gotten some of your files, but there wasn't a download anywhere." -

The "download" was a link which you click, and the download starts. I assumed some of my links were broken, and asked him back which downloads he tried. None, because there are none, he replied. After some back-and-forth I realized: This guy didn't try to click my links because I didn't label them with "Download" or "Download now!", but the actual file name, and he thought if he clicked them he would simply leave the site. Please also bear in mind this guy is going the same university as I do. So, he's kind of part of the so-called intellectual elite of this country.

I can never guess if guys like him are simple stoned up the wazoo, are so plain stupid they probably receive their Darwin Awards in the very near future, or if they are just screwing with my mind and pushing my buttons.

Some day in the future, I'll figure it out. And then I'll probably weep for humanity.

Soooo...

2007-07-29T10:59:00.001+02:00

...yes, against all rumors, I'm still alive. Barely.

Why you ask, didn't I post anything, not here, not on the Charmed Sons, and not on fanfiction? Hm. Okay, let's reformulate this: Why, you would ask, if you actually cared. Because contrary to the usual bunch of people who post in livejournal, blogger et al., I know my readership isn't measured in thousands. Or hundreds. Or dozens. I'm self-conscious enough to guess that other people do have lives, too.

And after this shocking revelation(and more or less shameless filler), let's additionally discover what held me from posting the past three months, which might even interest you less. Heh.

First of all, we left off with a hateful rant against my team-mates. Starting off now with another one against them would be appropriate, since their lazyness, their unreliability, and their sheer incompetence have managed to drive us full-speed against the nearest wall. In the end, I contributed over 75 per cent of the actual work into the thing. But since these seminar papers need contributions from four people (and that means actual work, not half-assed little paragraphs passed off as "zis is rilly rilly hart wok"), so guess. We failed. And because of this event not caused by my own incompetence(and no, I didn't have the chance to pick my teammates), I now have a semester extra on my back. That's half a fucking year, if yer intrested.
Needless to say, I was thisclose to murder all of them, and a few innocent bystanders just for the heck of it. Even worse, I was thisclose to getting myself a drink.
Thankfully, I have stacks and stacks of emergency chocolate rations stashed in our house just for days like this. Now all I have to worry about is getting diabetes and eating myself into a sugar coma.

So, utter stress, utter failure, and rampant disregards for healthy food are my excuses for May and June. What's my excuse for July then? Easy. I got a job.

-Or rather, an internship. And it's even a getting-paid one. Yay!

-Although, I have to work as much as my co-workers, which means a 35-hour-week (technically, 38.3 hours, since I have to add the mandatory lunch break each day). Boo!

-But at least I'm able to pay my phone bill and fuel for the next three months! Yay!

-Unfortunately, not much more, since I only get 409 € a month (568,51 $, but only because the Dollar isn't worth shit at the moment). And I'm not sure until the first payday this week, but I probably have to pay taxes on that tiny amount, too. Boo!

-But I have the chance to work at Volkswagen again(Yes, I am a Wolfsburg native), and even in an IT department which does stuff I totally wanna do when I'm all grown up and equipped with a diploma. Yay!

-The work I have to do there is to create a new Intranet web presence for the department. It's simple html coding, translating stuff because they need an extra english website, and creating some new content. It's...okay, I guess. Not great, but okay.

-There's now just the tiny part of me working for eight hours, and studying for another five each day, which means instant death to social life. Boo!

So, are you craving to hear Ronan Keating's "Life is a Rollercoaster" right now? Then my work here is done. Heh.

I currently have a three-quarter-done Retard Review, and three unfinished blog posts I had to abandon, since, well, 70-hour-weeks tend to put a damper on my creativity. I try to post at least a part of them by this weekend, but I promise nothing. But y'all feel free to kick my ass if I don't deliver. Yes, I mean all two of you. ;-)

There's no I in TEAM. Yeah. Riiiiiight.

2007-04-16T12:15:00.001+02:00

Brace yourselves, people, this is a rant, and it's gonna be long.

I hate teamwork. As in, HAAATE it. Why? Because I'm an antisocial freak? No. Well, okay, partly. But the reason I hate it so much today in particular is directly correlated to my current teammates in my current uni seminar(one of them), and the fact that they, well, suck. Starring in this particular drama are : Petronius (the guy I usually hang out with in uni), Yours Truly, and two people who were put into our group afterwards, which I'll call Sakharov and Ginorma.

Our seminar is about a part of artificial intelligence, neural networks, that kinda stuff. Not exactly the most amusing reading, I assure you.

Two weeks ago.
Professor M: I want every team to explore the topic, and next time, I want to see which branches of that topic you want to explore further, and give me a rundown of those in a presentation, so I'll see you actually did something.
Team Teshik: Okely-dokely, neighbor!

Act I - The Dating Drama

Petronius: Let's meet Wednesday.
Ginorma: Can't, I have to work, and Thursday morning, too. Thursday afternoon?
Petronius: ...is when I'm working.
Sakharov: So Friday then.
Petronius and Teshik: Can't, we have a meeting for another seminar.
Teshik: Monday morning?
Sakharov: Mandatory lessons.
Petronius: And in the afternoon for us. Oy.

So we finally planned to meet on Tuesday, 11 o'clock. Monday morning, email from Ginorma. Could we please move this to either Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday?
I check this with the others. Sakharov has lessons, and Petronius has to work, so we could meet at Tuesday, 18.30, or Wednesday. 18.30 is an iffy idea, since Ginorma and have to take the train into Braunschweig, and after 8 pm, the voyage back home tends to become a rather err...interesting experience. As in, if I take the detour over Paris and Istanbul I will be home earlier, and will actually be home faster if I drive the 50-odd kilometers by BIKE, so ixnay on that one. Since Ginorma doesn't answer her phone, the three of us agree on Wednesday at eleven, and write her an email (which was in her inbox at about 6pm on Monday).
Tuesday, 11.45. I'm at home. My cell phone rings.

Female Voice: Where were you?
Teshik: Err...Who is this?
Ginorma: [Ginorma]?
Teshik: Oh. Sorry. Hi. What do you mean, where was I?
Ginorma: I was there at eleven, I told my boss I have to leave for an hour for this!
Teshik: But...we agreed to meet tomorrow. Because you said you couldn't make it?
Ginorma: What? Nobody told me about this!
Teshik: Yes, we did. We couldn't call you, so I wrote you an email yesterday.
Ginorma: (pregnant pause) No. I didn't get any email.
Teshik: (thinking to himself) Suuure. This pause wasn't suspicious or anything. (out loud) Well, too bad. We want to meet tomorrow, at 11. I'll re-send you the email.

To everyone out there who keeps using the old "You must've typed my address wrong, cuz I didn't get that mail" excuse: If you actually do that, you'll get a message from the Message Delivery Subsystem/Your Email-Client/YoMomma, refusing to relay to nonexistant addresses. So everyone else knows it's just a shitty way of saying "I totally didn't read your email and try to gloss it over with a blatant lie."

And for the love of Christ, do me a favor and do not study Computer Science and Business. It's just so, so embarassing.

Act II - I'll get back to you on that.

Meeting 1:
Petronius: Since nobody can (or rather, wants to) read the whole damn book in two days, I suggest each of us takes a part of the book, reads it, and makes a summary for the others.
Sakharov: All of us have to read the first two chapters, because that's basic stuff. We'll split at the chapters 3 to 6.
Teshik: Agreed.
Ginorma: But the chapters are differently long!
Teshik: Well, okay, I'll take chapter 3, it's one of the bigger ones.
Sakharov: Chapter 4 for me.
Petronius: I volunteer for Chapter 6, that leaves you with No. 5 then.
Ginorma: Okay.
Teshik: Next time, we'll discuss what to take into the presentation.

Meeting 2:
Teshik: Okay, here are my results (shows page with Chapter 3 contents).
Sakharov: I haven't written anything, but I will tell you the main points now.
Petronius: I try to blunder my way through this by lying I read it while only nattering about the chapter titles.
Ginorma: It's all consisting of Look-up-tables and stochastic problems. What I'm saying is, I read it, but totally didn't understand it, so I'll just dish out random key words, hoping you won't notice. If Petronius can do this, so can I.
Teshik: So, can we put down the topics we like to have covered now?
Petronius: I suggest each one of us makes a list of topics he wants to cover and we'll jumble it together at the next meeting.
Ginorma: I agree.

Meeting 3:
Sakharov and I show up, Ginorma and Petronius do not. Petronius phones me, he got held up at work. Ginorma has reportedly forgotten her stuff at home. Sigh.

Act III - Won't anybody think of the Stochastics here?

Since I began to notice the rampant non-productivity in our meetings, I proposed to meet in IRC instead the next day. Not that I expected actually more, but at least I wouldn't have to waste time on the way and back.

So, Meeting 4, IRC, on Thursday, 18.00.
18.00:
T: Hey folks, I'm here. Folks?

18.10:
T: Fooolks?

18.20:
T: Fooo-hooolks!

18.30:
P: Sorry I'm late. Where are the others?
T: You tell me.
We begin working.

19.15:
S: Hi I'm here, sorry for being so late, got held up at uni.
P: No prob, we'll fill you in.
S: Is Ginorma gone already?
T: Err. Something like that.

So in the following hours, we worked together on the presentation, finally, on a draft I made the day before. BTW, I just noticed, this blog post lets me sound like I'm some kind of Über-diligent nerd and dominant as hell. I'm not, I'm more of a meek, lazy doormat. I guess it's just a case of being in the Land of the Blind and stuff. Innyway. We almost have the major stuff done, some formatting issues, and we'd be good to go. Until...

21.10:
G: Hey guys. I just mailed you my suggestion for the presentation.

Please note the disturbing absence of any apology for being late, or simply not going online. But, I was grateful she at least has done something. Until I open said draft. said draft consists of babble of what stochastic problems are. Since I don't want to bore you to death with the topic, I'll try to make it brief: Think of a game with a random element, like throwing a dice, and you have a stochastic event in it. So stochastic problems means you have to solve a problem even though you don't know for sure what happens next, opposed to deterministic problems, where you know for sure doing this'n'that will result in that'n'this. Sounds simple, right? Actually, it is that simple. And furthermore, it's our task to describe methods solving these problems.

Ginorma apparently thought stating the problem, or rather, only one of the problems, in excruciating detail would be enough, and wanted to add 9 slices of this in our 20-slices presentation. We told her, first politely, then firmly that this kinda is too much, and would probably better off in the actual seminar report we have to write later.
Until I discovered later at closer inspection that all - ALL - of her slices were just a literal copy-and-paste of Googlisms found on that topic. Like, Professor M won't notice because he's not an expert on exact that topic, and totally not recognizes every single morsel of the work that has to be original. NOT! AUGH!

But the best part: After dumping this "work" directly into our laps, and after bitching that our work isn't complete (like, how can it be complete when our task is to present the topics we're about to cover in the next two months, like, way to understand your actual task, dim bitch), she then suddenly announces she has to work tomorrow and has to go to bed now. We say goodnight to her. And then, she goes offline, at least, out of Sakharov's and Petronius perspective. Out of my perspective however, she turns on her invisible mode on ICQ, because she doesn't notice I'm not on her Invisible list yet. And stays there, clueless, for the next one and a half hour. Remember, Computer Science and Business. God, this is just sad.

But oh well. We got the presentation together. Now there was just the abominable task of who should actually present it. If you know me, you also know I have a near Phobia-like fear of speaking in public, and the other three weren't exactly keen on volunteering, either. So since we couldn't reach consensus, we planned to settle this on the day of the presentation.

Act IV - I just remembered, I have a thinly disguised excuse...

D-Day. Okay, Mon-Day actually. We agreed to meet at 9 o'clock, the presentation is at ten.

9.00.
T: Well, I'm here. (looks around) Hm. Guess I have to wait a little. Again.

9.05.
T: This is annoying. (pause) Why do I keep doing this being-on-time shit, anyway?

9.10.
T: Oh. They. Wouldn't.

9.15.
T: Oh God. They totally will.

9.20.
T: I hate each and every person on this fucking planet.

9.22.
Teshik: Oh goddamn fucking finally.
Sakharov (comes rushing): Sorry I'm so late, I missed my tram...Huh? Where are the others?
Teshik: You tell me. And no, they're not answering their cells either.

9.24.
Ginorma and Petronius arrive. The latter is limping.
Ginorma: Hey. Have you decided who's going to present?

I barely resist the urge to launch into a bitch-tirade, because a) when you're almost half an hour late(and notably, not for the first time exactly), the least you could do is utter a little "Sorry I'm late", and b) side-stepping the issue of presenting by simply letting your teammates believe you're a no-show? Wow. I don't even know where to begin. Anyway. Petronius did marginally better:

Petronius: Sorry I'm so late. I couldn't drive today, I sprained my ankle yesterday while climbing around in the Harz. And since I can't stand without considerable pain, I can't present today.

Because Petronius and I know each other so well by now, we then engage in a three-second conversation which was conducted entirely nonverbal. A rough translation:

T: Oh, you did NOT just do that to me.
P: Like I did it on purpose.
T: So you just happened to clamber up and down the nearest mountain you could find yesterday, not to mention with inappropriate footwear?
P: Why yes. Yes I did. Problem with that?
T: This ain't over. You know that.
P: Psh. Whatever. Drama Queen.

And no, I have no idea how one conveys "inappropriate footwear" just by wiggling ones eyebrows. But somehow, I did.

Ginorma: Okay. I just made three new pages on the stochastic problem. Let's insert them into our presentation.

No, I'm not kidding with that one.

Act V - He KNOWS something. Get the pitchforks! BURN THE WITCH!!

After we downtalked Ginorma yet again on her favourite subject (partly because two of her three were in the presentation already, like, nice of you to at least read what we've done, bitch. Not.), we got stuck again on the presentation part.

Ginorma: I was thinking, that you could take on the approximation part alone.
Teshik: That's...two thirds of our presentation.
Ginorma: Yes, but it's the part you wrote yourself. And you can explain it the best.

Oh. Kaaaaay. Just so we're clear, I had to do two thirds of our presentation, as a punishment, because I was stupid enough to do almost everything myself in the first place. Gah. Gaaaah!

I didn't start a major bitch-out, partly because it was 9.52 and we were on in ten minutes, partly because I really need that credit for that seminar, and partly because I'm a stupid pushover sometimes.

So, Ginorma begins...and stumbles. We wait for her to collect herself. Prof M asks her something. She's at a loss. I intervene, because I'm not a complete asshole. Prof asks a second question. I tell him G will cover this on the next slides, but before I'm able to turn over to her, I get plastered by the next few questions. I get a little ticked because suddenly I'm the one getting grilled by him, which is even better if you count the fact I'm getting grilled in front of 50+ other students and am barely resisting to dissolve into a sobbing heap of fear and embarrassment anyway.
Somehow I am able to get him back to our slices, although I have to do the rest of it alone. And if I thought two-thirds is much, three-quarters is actually even more. Rrrrgh.

After the end of the presentation, my next memories are kinda blurry. Must be that adrenaline thing in extreme duress situations. But I do remember Ginorma good-naturely saying I totally lied about my public-speaking-fear, because I did so well, and me resisting the urge of punching a stupid woman into her face in front of witnesses.

And to think, this was only the first presentation. We still have to write the actual paper, and present that one. Rrrrgh. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the clock tower.

It's A Bird! It's A Plane! It's... Grandpa in drag? In outer space?

2007-03-14T17:42:00.001+01:00

(click to enlarge)
Mom: It's... definitely a landscape of some sort.
Teshik: Brilliant deduction. Do you know from where?
Mom: Maybe...is that a lake or a wheat field?
Malady: Wheat field.
Teshik: Lake.
Malady: How many lakes do you know with little hills in the middle?
Teshik: That's no hill. That's... the curvature of the earth? I dunno. But it's a lake!
Mom: Why do you think she shot that picture?
Malady: It's because of that UFO in the sky.
Mom: The what?
Teshik: She means that blotch on the foto. Or... that one.
Mom: That's no blotch. That's the sun, hidden behind some clouds.
Teshik: No way. The sun has a major defining characteristic: It's bright.
Malady: She probably just wanted a photo of the nice summer meadow in the foreground.
Teshik: But why would you photograph a green summer meadow when you know you only have a black-and-white camera?
Malady: Beats the shit out of me.

---

I guess I need to explain that one. A few days ago, we decided to clean up our attic, which usually translates into "get rid of old useless crap so you can cram even more new useless crap into the same space instead of just throwing it away", because in essence, we're just a bunch of packrats. The fact that we live in a rather large house with much places to put and then forget stuff after a while doesn't really help either.
Said attic is (in addition to the crap we put into it), still full of my late Grandma's stuff we haven't managed to sort out yet, because a) we actually do have a life, and b) While Gramma did understand the concept of "throwing away stuff" in abstract theory, the practical application of said theory often left much to be desired. (Probably a long-term effect of having lived through WW II).
So every two, three months or so, we arm ourselves with garbage bags, steel ourselves all Metallica - Seek & Destroy, march to the attic, crawl into it, grab the first thing, ready to discard it without mercy, and then, inevitably, unstoppably, it happens.

-"Awwww, lookit, it's that thingamajig Gramma used to fibblewibble the whatsits. What a nice memory. Keep."

-"No! Not that! That was my favourite (insert clothing item or toy) when I was in (integer between 1 and 13)th grade!"

-"Nah, I want to wait a few years and then sell this magazine on eBay. People pay all sorts of money for stuff that's old enough." - "But it's missing the front page, and is full of chocolate stains!" - "Your point is?"

-"Oooh! Photos!"

Yeah, then the point is reached when one of us stumbles across one of those Li'l Photo-Boxes'o'Goodness. This particular box contains hundreds of photos ca. 7 by 5 cm(read: tiny), and spans from the thirties to the early fifties, and was probably untouched since we moved into this house, which was in 1984.
Don't worry, I won't bore you with the specifics of Gramma's last trip to Mallorca. (Although: There is a picture of a dinosaur among them for inexplicable reasons). But I do want you to show the more, um, interesting ones. Take, for example, this:

Mom: Hm. What do you make of this?
Teshik: Heh. "The Fat Wood Nymphs?"
Mom: Teshik! One of these could be Gramma!
Teshik: Not that we would be able to tell. Maybe Gramma just stalked some people.
Malady: Well, could be. It's definitely of the "Oh God, please, no photo" variety.
Mom: Gramma. Was. Not. A. Stalker.
Malady: Okay, okay. Relax, we're kidding.
Teshik: Besides, Grampa stalking half-naked women in the woods is much more believable, anyway.
Mom: Augh! (slaps Teshik on the back of his head)

---

Malady: Oh look. Little Red Riding Hood.
Teshik: But...why are all these people in the reclining chairs there watching her?
Malady: They're not looking at her. They're looking at that chair.
Teshik: Maybe they already know that Little Red Riding Hood's going to get eaten, and want to watch the spectacle.
Malady: You mean like those people who watch car accidents and get in the way of the medics?
Teshik: Well, they are bound to have ancestors.

---

Teshik: ...and then, they were all beamed into outer space.
Malady: What?
Teshik: Lookit.
Malady: Cool. Mom? Lookit.
Teshik: Aside from the obvious fact that we don't know who these two people are...how do you get special effects like this?
Mom: I have no idea.
Teshik: Mom? Tell us the truth. Are we quarter alien?
Mom: Oh brother.

---

Mom: Careful with that one. It's bound to rip apart any minute.
Malady: Why don't we just throw it away, then?
Mom: Because that's one of only four pictures of your grandpa as a boy.
Malady: Really? Where?
Mom: The only one of the Hitler Youth on the left who's actually smiling.
Malady: Grampa was in the Hitler Youth?
Mom: Well, it's not like they had much choice back then. Do you think Grampa fought in the War out of free will?
Teshik: Besides, do you want to be in the cool group that gets you free uniforms, field trips, and plane rides, or do you want to be in the other group, where they spit in your face and throw rocks at you?
Malady: Err...I want to be in the group that lives in the twenty-first century.
Teshik: Wise Choice.
(pause)
Teshik: Well, one thing we can take for sure: Everyone hated the fat chick on the far right.
Mom: Huh? Why?
Teshik: Well, 1) She's the only one who stands apart, and 2) even her mother hates her. No loving mother lets her daughter out into the open in that dress. She looks like Obelix.
Mom: You don't know how this dress really looked. Maybe it has a really nice color.
Teshik: Ten bucks say that the dress was either bright orange, or putrid green.
Malady: I'm with him.

---

Teshik: This ship has severe problems.
Mom: That's just the perspective.
Teshik: Well, if this ship's neither sinking, nor burning, nor getting pulled into the abyss at the end of the world, why was it photographed?
Mom: Dunno. Anything at the back of the photo?
Teshik: "Number 5". Is this a kind of code?
Malady: I got another ship here. This one has "Number 4" on its back.
Teshik: So, basically, Gramma and Grampa stood at some river, photographed at least five ships, and then numbered them?
Mom: Looks like it.
Teshik: I am so, so glad they invented Television.

Fun with Electricity. And Australians.

2007-02-22T13:31:00.001+01:00

So, I heard about Australians plans of prohibiting light bulbs. I admit, the picture forming in my mind of twenty million people sitting in the dark and waiting for the attack of the man-eating kangaroos amuses me mightily. Ooh, maybe they hang candles on their hats instead of corks then to fight the darkness. Although even a light breeze should disabuse them of the notion, what with the hot wax in their eyes and the burn scars and all. (This stereotype-Ass-tical rambling has been sponsored by Inappropriate Inc. :"If you're not offended, our job isn't done.")

Okay, okay. So they only want to ban the non-energy-saving light bulbs in an effort to combat Global Warming. This new policy would be nice. And it would save a little energy, I guess. And since Mr Turnbull can't get his mates to finally ratifying that damn Kyoto thing, like every other industrialized nation has done(except for them steenky Americans, but harping on the Bush administration will have to wait until another blog post. Or, more likely, at least a dozen.), it's nice to see he's at least doing something.

But:
Have you ever wondered how many energy you save when you turn off the light in unused rooms? Well, on a sixty Watts bulb, you'll save 60 Watt. Duh. No, actually, I mean in regards of the total energy your household uses. Lookit these two pictures (click to enlarge) :

The left one assumes an average household, as in: Somewhere between Alaska and Mexico. The right one is applicaple if you're living in a part of the world where it snows in winter and there's rarely need for air conditioning in summer (like my little corner).

Even though the two diagrams I googled differ, we see a trend: the most energy goes out the window to prevent our toes and fingers from freezing off. And the second largest part is needed so we won't catch pneunomia in our morning shower. (And annoy our neighbors with the constant screaming.)

Notice the "lighting" part? It's rather small, in both pictures. So even if we reduce the energy used there to one fifth (and that's assuming all Australians are trashing all their still-functioning light bulbs, replacing them immediately, and won't buy any extra lamps or other appliances again, ever), you'll probably save 4 % of the energy used, if you're generous.
For reference: you'll save the same amount of energy in your household if you just don't put your stove right next to your refrigerator (6 per cent if you're stupid enough to put your stove right next to your freezer).
Or: You'll save another six per cent if you turn down your heating in winter, just by one degree Celsius.
Or: All Australians abandon their driers and hang their clothes in the eucalyptus trees to dry: 5% less.
Or: you don't pre-heat your oven when baking apple pie. Every non-pre-heated pie saves 20 % of your stoves energy used.
Or: Y'all shearers grab your machines, shave your koala and kangaroo population nekkid, and glue them around your houses for insulation(the furs, not the naked animals, you perverts.): a whopping 20 per cent less heating in winter, and around 10 per cent less air-conditioning in summer.

So, don't get me wrong, Mr. Turnbull. Saving 4 per cent energy is good, and I support that. But if this is your only strategy to combat Global Warming? Then consider yourself a good-ol'-fashioned idiot.

Hey, Baby. Wanna cure cancer with me?

2007-02-10T14:14:00.002+01:00

I hate wasted resources. But I also hate turning my computer on and off when I'm only gone for, like half an hour. Solution? Easy. I donate my body to science. Or rather, my CPU. Same difference.

I'm talking about distributed computing. Basically, you install a little software client, which uses the idle times on your computer to calculate stuff. The stuff you're calculating isn't much, like "how would a protein look if it had these contents" or "is there anything unusual in this radio signal", and any pc which can run Windows can run these.
But the algorithms need time. And if you are a scientist who wants to know the looks of all the three gazillion proteins found yet, and it will take two hours on a fast pc to calculate the looks of one, even a very very fast pc won't cut it.

But one million average pc's make a difference. Here's where you come in. Yes, I want something from you. But since it's not money nor time wasted for you (except maybe for two minutes of setup), it's not like that big a deal. Hell, you don't even have to lift your lazy ass out of your chair for it.

Here's a list of many distributed computing projects currently active (you have to scroll down the page to see the list). You can choose any of those as you like it, just remember that installing more than one at a time is probably counter-productive.
Personally, I've chosen Folding@Home , because it's one of the largest projects, has already published interesting results, and its goal is to cure illnesses. Plus, it has a point system, so whenever you submit a work unit, you'll climb up the rank ladder. It doesn't mean anything of course, except you can feel mighty cancer-cure-y for a day or whatever.

I also set up a team number (53899) over there, which means we could combine our powers, and be just like those damn Benetton Kids summoning Captain Planet. Only cooler. So, whaddaya say, people?

Teshik Teaches: What the fuck is an "orcane" ?

2007-01-19T16:01:00.002+01:00

The dictionary tells me the english word for the german word "Orkan" is called "Hurricane". But Hurricane roughly means "Tropical Storm, but more pissed" as far as the anglophones are concerned. And since I really don't consider Britain, Netherlands, Germany, Poland etc. part of the Tropics (yet), I'm gonna need another word.
I'd consider "Storm", but it sounds so itty-bitty. Tornado? Nah, we already had three of those in the last year (not that we ever had tornadoes in middle Europe that had any destructive ability beyond moving leaves around before. But I purposefully digress).
So I am deciding to simply anglicise Orkan into orcane, inventing a new word. Update your dictionaries boys and girls, I'll use it until it sticks. Or until I get distracted. So:

Orcane, the (m.):
-1. Storm in temperate areas of the planet that's quite pissed off. And likes to push around trees just for kicks.
-2. Fucking inconvenience for everyone who want to actually get somewhere with a car, the train, the bus, or just plain by foot.
-3. The producer of rain, hail, snow, and quite an amazing array of moving air molecules.
-4. Quite often, the bringer of car accidents, broken windows, and multiple blackouts. Like the three fucking blackouts we had yesterday. Thanks Kyrill. I didn't want to do anything with my precious files on my computer in those six hours, glad you asked.
-5. An incentive to do things you'd never even consider as "sane" under normal circumstances. Like playing Activity with your family in candle-light. I'm kinda glad the lights were out, because that means I only have to kill my parents, my sister and my cousin and that ...err, enlighted pantomiming of "blowdart" will never reach the light of the public.
(rereads last sentence)
Oh. Well, crap.

Oh What A Beautiful Morning

2007-01-19T08:25:00.001+01:00

So...yesterday, Central Europe had its first large-scale hurricane. Hooray. Not. But before I rant about Global Warming and its moodswinging bullshit yet again, something different.

January 16th, 1.44 a.m.

Cell Phone: *rinng*?
Teshik: *snooore*.
Cell Phone:*rinnnnnng*!
Teshik: Whut? Huh?
Cell Phone: *RINNNG*!!!
Teshik: Oh, fuck off and die. (gets out of bed, grabs the phone) Who, and what!
F: Can you come over? Like, real quick?
Teshik: Not again. When will those twins get born? Mid-February?
(side-note: S had more or less been in labour since end of November, and I emergency-babysat for Jay for no less than six times since then.)
F: Today. S's water just broke.
Teshik: Oh goddamn fucking finally. (pause) Gimme twenty minutes.

---

Shortly after 2 a.m., I drive into the suburb F and S live in, and almost hit a black-white cat. AGAIN, because that damn bastard seems to be suicidal, seeing as I almost run over it twice before. I swear, it's the same damn cat. Oh well. Three gone, six lives to go before I have to scrape it off my tires, I guess. F is waiting at the parking lot, S already in the car.

Teshik: You won't believe it! That same cat of last week...
F: Here're the keys, gotta go, see ya!
He then left a dust trail in the direction of the hospital, so he won't have a giant mess in his car. And I had a night to kill. Question: How?

-Television.
Vox Channel. Some breast implants try to seduce me. They fail.
"Ohh, I NEED a REALLY strong GUY to SATISFY me! CALL!!! Oh! Nine-HUNDRED!!! Sex-sex-FIVE, sex-sex-FIVE!"
The support system of the implants then proceeds to lick the telephone receiver with her tongue. Ick. And that is supposed to arouse me? Because it only reminds me of that receptionist chick in Dead Like Me, spreading her boogers around.

-Sleeping on the sofa.
That sofa has seen the beginning of the nineties, and is the oldest furniture in S's possession. Sitting on it is fine, but lying in it? Well, can you lie comfortably on something that has the profile of a W ? The only possibility of getting sleep is when you crouch yourself into one of the two V's in a fetal position and pray none of the springs decides to jump out and rip apart your face. Tony the Tiger says "Grrrrreat!"

-Sleeping in S and F's bed.
Errr, inappropriate much? Plus, EWWW. Which part of "her water broke" are you not getting? EWW.

-Television again.
Someone of the programming department of the Phoenix Channel is a sick twisted bastard. Because he decided 4 a.m. is the best time to show all those people watching, who are probably insomniac in the first place, a documentary of the Naked Mole Rat. Ensuring no one who sees this will want to go to sleep again, ever.

Four hours later, the inevitable happened: Jay woke. And: Jay had successfully digested his dinner. I usually don't change diapers during babysitting safe for emergencies. It's kind of a silent treaty between all participants. But Daddy wasn't here, Jay had a stinker, so I guess the category "emergency" was reached. By the way, I am so getting a Nanny once I start procreating.

Teshik: Oookay. This is the part we both hate, because you have icky doo-doo in your diapers, and I have to be the one cleaning it up.
Jay: Gah!
Teshik: Yes. "Gah" puts it quite nicely. Look, can we please skip the part this time where you start peeing as soon as I take the diaper off?
Jay: Dee-dl-dee-dl-dee-dlllll!
Teshik: I'll take that as a "maybe".

Eight seconds later.

Teshik: Oh, fucking son of a bitch!

Ten minutes later. Teshik and Jay rummage through the laundry basket. Jay is now naked except for a fresh new diaper.
Teshik: Know what? If Mommy and Daddy don't start potty-training you very soon, I will. Because this? Is ridiculous. I mean, peeing over one babybody? An accident. Peeing apparently over all of them? Is exhibiting some verrrry strange behaviour, young man.
Jay: De-De!
Teshik: Admit it. "I can't talk yet" is just your excuse for not seeing a shrink about your territory marking.

But I did find some non-peed clothes in the end, and the plans B, C, and D - "dressing him in Daddy's clothes", "ramping up the heating to eleven and keep him nekkid", and "get him into the pee-clothes, swipe the wonder tree from my car, decorate Jay with it, and hope no one notices what a horrible person I am" - were thankfully discarded.

---

At around half past ten, F returned home.

F: Hey. How's it going?
Teshik: You really really have to do laundry. But we're fine. How's S ?
F: The lovely mother was blissfully unconscious as I left her. She really likes the nurse with the painkillers now. ... Laundry? No. He didn't.
Teshik: Oh yes he did.
F: God. It's his latest tic. Did he even have underwear left?
Teshik: Err...I had to improvise. You have a big Jay-sized hole in your favourite white sweater now.
F: What?
Teshik: Just kidding.
F: Don't do this to me. Not after this night. Have you any idea when I got up today?
Teshik: Approximately five minutes before me.
F: Oh yeah. ...
Teshik: ...
F: ... What fucking cat?

---

Oh well. S and F are now the loving parents of Jay and his two baby boy brothers.
Happy Birthday, M and D. Welcome to the insane asylum called Earth.

I can see your house from Space!

2006-12-22T10:55:00.001+01:00

I'm random again. And this is why I now dare you to add your position, because I'm interested where all the Charmed Sons posters are from. (Or the ones who actually happened to came across this blog per chance. Yes, I mean all one-and-a-half of you. Heh.). Well, let's see if this actually works:

Edit: Aaaaand just in the moment I decide to delete the thing because it doesn't seem to work, I get my very first comment of this blog. Curses, my evil plans foiled again. Heh. Hiya, Random Indian Jokester Guy!

All Hail Global Warming!

2006-12-04T13:25:00.002+01:00

You know what? Global Warming and I have come to an understanding. Why? Well, This is, so far, the nicest winter ever(well, in Europe, at least).
Although it tends to be unnerving at times. Yesterday, I was taking out the trash, while in a t-shirt, and stayed out a few minutes to enjoy the breeze. Then I noticed it's already sunset (it was 3:15 pm, after all, and the forest directly in front of my home village shortens the days to 5.5 depressing hours on Winter Solstice).

Then, I went "Hmm. Something is wrong with this picture. Ah yes. To correct this picture, we either
a) move up the sun at least 25 degrees away from the horizon, or
b) my dead body should be frozen directly in front of our open trash can with a stinkface and a bag of frozen garbage in my hands. Because no way in frackin' hell do I go out in December while exposing more that 2 % of my skin to the elements.

It was that wonderful "The Day The Earth Spun Off Its Axis" vibe that made it complete.

Oh, and don't come with "But it's supposed to be snowing" and "what about Christmas". Bah, I say. Snow is heavily overrated. Ask everyone who's knee-deep into it for longer than a week. Sure it's pretty.
But everyone who has to drive each morning knows there are these kinda days when it's snowed 10 centimeters in the last hour again, and you can't drive more than 20 km per fucking hour, but that doesn't even bother you, because there's an asshole directly in front of you who apparently forgot that there's this winter thing that happens, like EVERY GODDAMN YEAR, and still drives with summer tires, at about 10 km per hour. Okay, scratch "drives", he more or less glides on the damn snow/ice road, as in, two steps forward, one step sidewards, much to the consternation of the people driving in the opposite direction. And even though you started digging your car out about half an hour ago, you could just look in the rear mirror and see your HOUSE.

And since we had these kinda days up until friggin mid-March of 2006, I don't really feel the need for snow in the immediate future. All of you who are in a serious need of a snow fix: I read Antarctica won't be completely ice-free in Summer until about 2080. Go there. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to emission carbon dioxide right now. Heh.

Edited to add: This little interactive map I found shows you what happens if the sea level rises due to global warming. Netherlanders and Floridians, you're going to get wet feet.

Healthy lifestyle? Pull the other one.

2006-11-29T20:55:00.002+01:00

Sailorwind asked:
So how was everyone's Thanksgiving?

Busy. And we don't even have this holiday. Let's see. There was :

Friday, block seminar. Lesson from 9:30 am to 6 pm, after which your brain cells are pretty much fried. And keep in mind I additionally need 2 hours to and fro each, so extra annoyance guaranteed.

Saturday. Spending the morning trying to decipher the cryptic notes I left on my memo pad yesterday, while apparently already in half-coma. Getting a call from F, the dad of my godchild. His wife, S, pregnant with twins needs to go to the hospital. Impromptu babysitter needed. I say yes, although I already agreed to do the same on Sunday and Monday, because I'm an idiot. F and S return around six, thankfully false alarm. After godchild is tucked away, we decide to raid the secret saltine stack, call a few friends and make a little dvd-in. After seeing "Cars" (average) and "Big Mama 2" (surprisingly good), I fall asleep within the first ten minutes of "Spiderman". Again.

Sunday. My Mom and I spend the most of morning and noon under our roof (more precisely, the stowaway parts at the sides) to stuff an old closet and bed (disassembled) there. First we have to clean up a whole bunch of mouseshit and close the hole they apparently crawled in. Fun. Not. In the afternoon, I pack my pc and drive over to F (we play pc games on each Sunday. It's part of a tradition by now). Unfortunately, around five S is having labour again, some more. So while they endure the fun of incompetent doctors, I have to keep Jay (my godchild) upright and entertained two hours past his bedtime. (Tugging him in myself? Nah. We discussed this. Either Mommy or Daddy tucks him in, or no one.)

Monday. F has a mandatory seminar today, so I babysit again from 7.30 am to 5.30 pm(at least, this time S is at home. Not that she can actually do anything while chained to the bed, but she's a better conversationalist than her son). Note the recurring theme of me babysitting and me spending more time at my friend's than at home. At least today, we don't have to drive to the hospital again. After that, dropping by at friend Y, who's in the city for a day. Uni workload? Pshaw. Tomorrow, maybe.

Tuesday, the day with most lessons. Getting a call from D, who somehow managed to rip apart something in his knee and thus can't return his math homework. So we ditch the 8-10 lesson and drive over to him. On the way back to uni, I notice my neck stiffens, my head aches, and my forehead begins to glow. This is my body's subtle way of saying: "Unusual Exercise, sleep-deprivation and Junk Food/missed meals instead of vitamins for several days? Screw you, Asshole!". I know he's not kidding, so I ditch the rest of lessons too and drive home. Much to the delight of a schoolclass on tour and two old ladies in the train, who probably think I infected them with Ebola or something. The rest of the day consists of dumping aspirin and the very arduous task of breathing.

Wednesday. Body and me sign an armistice, I stuff myself with a vitamin cocktail which usually would suffice for a whole week - and a whole family - and venture out into uni territory again. This day's wacky train hijinks feature two loud elementary-school-classes, and my non-functional mp3-stick. And in uni, I realize I came for exactly nothing, since the stupid server crashed and our input is void. Great.

So, in retrospect, I did so much my body went on strike, but actually having accomplished something? Nah. Yeah, depressing. I know.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll now shamelessly abuse my moderator privilege by randomly terrorizing poor innocent forumists. Mua ha ha ha ha.

Driving is dangerous

2006-10-20T16:24:00.001+02:00

There is a street in Wolfsburg that really, really hates my Mom's car.

As you might know, my mother doesn't have a drivers licence at the moment, because she hit another parking car, had a major brainout and drove away, but got caught. Because of that, she may not drive on her own until November, and since my dad and sis have to work in shifts, so the lucky one who gets to drive back and forth twice a day is Moi.

So today, after I fetched her from work, she had to go on several errands. And since her back's been acting up again(to the point it takes 30 seconds to bend over and fit into the car), I wound up doing those errands. office supplies, bank, stamps, usual stuff. Then, after I reentered the car for the x'd time:

Mom: Now, pull over there on the right side, I need a bread.
Teshik: Mom? That store is literally across the street. Why did you tell me to start the car?
Mom: So I don't have to walk so much.
Teshik: Mom, that's exactly two car lengths. Plus, I am the one walking, so...

It is in situations like this when she puts up a very distinct look. You know, the look that is somehow able to convey :
"Junior, I've been in labour with you for twenty-five fuckin' hours back then, and I am able to tell you en detail how you wrecked my entire anatomy with your mere birth if requested. And if that's not enough to shut you up, I still have the backup of you living in my house at the moment, so do what I say, pointless as it may be, NOW, or else."

Teshik(rolls eyes): Fiiine.

So I start the car, drive across the street, and hop inside the shop to get the bread. I hop back into the car, shift into reverse, set b...

Kra-WHAM!

SHITFUCK!

Quick inventory. Neck is fine, body is fine, Mom sits next to me yelling, so she's fine, too. It is now that I notice I did NOT bother to look in the rear mirror, and now I notice that 30 seconds ago, another car went into the spot behind me. Fuck. Fuck-Shitfuck-Fuck. Fuck.
We both got out. A woman actually asks us if we're alright (When my sister got hit by a unmanned rolling car years ago, the first thing SHE got as response was "I'ma going to call the police on you!"). We three take a look at the damage. Our car is fine, the other car has scratches, but somehow they don't fit, as our car doesn't have a trailer coupling. But still: If he/she wants to, my insurance has to pay for the damage I could have inflicted, since I can't prove otherwise, and my insurance would "thank me properly" for that.

Mom: You know, come to think of it, this is exactly the spot where I hit that car three months ago.
Teshik (gets another distinct look, the one that says:"You killed a WHAT?"): And you wait till NOW to tell me?
Mom: And it was even with this car.
Teshik: Okay, that settles it. From now on, we won't buy bread in this bakery anymore. This parking space is cursed.
Mom: But they have the best bread in the city...
Teshik: Cuuursed! ... By the way, I am relieved you were in the car.
Mom: Huh? Why?
Teshik: You're the only person I know who cannot give me the "God, why the Hell didn't you look in the freakin' rear mirror" tirade without blushing.

Two minutes later, the owner steps out of the shop (he actually was the guy behind me in line), inspects the damage, and because he is awesome, he tells me not to worry about it. I'm safe. And because I am grateful, I am hereby thanking the stranger with the pale blue eyes and the yellow car for not screwing me over. Thank You.

You know what the irony is? I took my mom's car today, not my own. Why? Because my own is standing in the (narrow) garage, I told myself "Fuck it. With this car, I don't have any trouble with driving in reverse. That sure told me today.

So yeah, this story actually has a happy-end this time. Sorry to disappoint ;-)

Revenge of The Construction Workers

2006-10-11T22:10:00.001+02:00

HAAAATE!

So, I've been without internet access for yet another three fucking days. It's not that I need it or something. Rrrrr.
The amazing and mindbogging part of it is, this time, the Deutsche Telekom is innocent. Seems like the construction workers who are redoing the street that's connecting us to the rest of the world and who are completely shutting down the street (forcing us to drive literally through the woods to get to work/grocery store/whatever and back, an extra of five fucking kilometers each time), have just veered off a leeeetle too much to the side, disconnecting the phone lines that were just innocently lying beyond the ground. *Rrriip* no telephone and dsl for about 800 people. Classy.
And the really sad part is, we were lucky they didn't hit the water pipes again. Originally, the major overhaul of our road wasn't due until 2012. Until some other construction workers broke the major water pipe in our neighboring village a few months ago. Which cost us water for a day(and ruined the street). And THIS was just two days after a three-hour blackout. I shit you not.

No, I'm not done ranting yet. Today, I had to drive to Uni. Usually, I'd just take the bus, which is free for me, but I couldn't, because my student ID had expired. Well, why didn't you pick up your new ID at your uni the week before the old one expired, Teshik, you say? Oh, why, I tried, dear beloved reader, two times. Only to discover on the first day they weren't ready yet, and that the employee handing them out was sick the other day. Did I mention they only give them out on weekdays between 11 and 12 in the first place? AUUGGGHH.
So, I drove there by car. No sweat, you'd think, since the Uni is only 40 kilometers from my home, which translates to roughly an hour of driving.
And you'd think wrong. Apparently, the Great Conspiracy Of The Construction Workers decided today to be the perfect day to shut off a part of the highway, what with me innocently driving around in my car and all. Of course, I saw through their evil plan of keeping me of my ID yet again, and took the no-highway-route. And OF COURSE I played right into their trap, because they'd set up yet ANOTHER construction site right there, shutting down one lane. You know what this meant?

Instant Traffic Death.

Two excruciating hours of driving. And THEN, the little guy in my radio told me that today, they will defuse an old World War II bomb again. And the evacuation zone was put between me and the Uni.

At this point, I was thisclose to just pull over unto the sidewalk and have a good, long cry. Oh wait, I'm almost out of hankerchiefs, better not. Instead, I called my mom.

Teshik's Mom: Hello?
Teshik: Hi Mom. Mom?
Teshik's Mom: Yeah?
Teshik: This entire planet hates me.
Teshik's Mom: Errr...Do you wanna talk about it?
Teshik: Not right now. Listen, I will be late in picking you up from office.
Teshik's Mom: Oh. How much later?
Teshik: Err. You got a sleeping bag with you?

So, after taking another detour, I was allowed to park a few blocks away from Uni(the police was rerouting traffic) and arrived at the office...at 12.15. Thankfully, the girl at the office was still there, and gave me my ID. Thank You, Random Uni Employee. You kinda saved my day.

Then, I took the detour for the bomb again, the highway detour again, stood in the jam for another fucking hour(the highway had a jam of 16 kilometers and my alternate route about ten, the radio said later), finally got my mom (who worked two hours overtime that day), took the detour to get to a frickin' grocery store, and finally, the detour to gain access to our home village.

Is it any wonder I don't like to leave the house any more?

Only Time

2006-09-11T16:08:00.001+02:00

So, it's that time of the year again, where we all dig out the Enya CD and tell stories about when "it" happened. And since I didn't divulge my Story before...
The following is a transcript of an network chat between me and an ex-colleague of mine (before I went to university, I've been a trainee for Volkswagen for two years.), started around 14.40 MEST(8.40 EDT), September 11, 2001.

Satyria: I'm boooooooored. Do something.
Teshik: Hm. I'm working at the moment. Does that count?
S: Fine. Do something that entertains me. Precise enough?
T: Okay. *juggles two elephants, the unugunu, his former boss and two chainsaws, while only using his left elbow*
S: This would be far better if I could see you doing this. Not that I won't believe you...
T: Me? I Liar? Blasphemy ;)
T: All you have to do is come over here...
S: Yeah, only 2 kilometers down the Mittelstrasse. (The Volkswagen factory is reaaaaally big, and we were working in different departments in different parts of it at that time.) Thanks, but no thanks. I only have a t-shirt on, and it's freezing today.
T: Only a t-shirt, huh? I bet your colleagues are pleased. But what does your boyfriend think about your work attire?
S: Asshole.
T: >>:-))
S: You know it's hot over here. And I didn't think it's be that cold today.
T: Yet another reason to come over here. My colleagues are diehard fresh-air fanatics, keeping the window open even when its snowing, I think. thank god I leave here in october.
S: Teaser. At least you have windows. I am surrounded by *boxes*.
T: But at least you have a radio. My only distraction the line monkeys screaming at me why their pay is too low. (I was sitting in a Personal Service Center. But we had nothing at all to do with their paychecks)
S: Maybe you should give them Carestin's (trainee in Finances) email address.
T: So that she drives *another* beetle against the wall from the stress? Better not ;-)
S: *lol*
S: Woah. They just said in the news a plane crashed in New York. Which one is the World Trade Center?
T: Uhhh...I think it's the old one, with the needle at the top. (means the Empire State building)
S: You mean that thing where the Kingpin lives in the new Spiderman cartoon? (means the Chrysler Tower)
T: Maybe. I dunno. Did the building collapse?
S: They didn't say.
S: Hey, wanna meet in the city today? I wanna buy a cell phone today.
T: So you finally don't have to carry around that foldable Telephone booth anymore?
S: Yeah. Wanna go? I'll be on the parking lot in about twenty minutes.
T: You leave early *again*?
T: Sorry, can't go. Only if you wait until I get out of the Hospital.
S: ???
S: I thought your grandma died two weeks ago? (Sorry for reminding you)
T: Yeah. But now, it's my dad. Guess what it could be.
S: Oh god. You still have relatives left?
S: ...Cancer?
T: Yeah, could be stomach cancer. He's there since Friday. Today, they've made some stomach camera thing, and can tell us what's what.
S: Shit. I hope it's not.
T: Me too. Or Cancer really IS contagious. (in 2000 and '01, I had lost 7 family members. 5 of them because of cancer.)
S: I really wish him the best.
S: I'm leaving in five minutes (it's 15.10 now). How long do you want to stay?
T: *Want*? Until about 7.35 am. Have to ? I think up till four. Still gotta finish those bloody attendance statistics today.
S: Wow. They just said a second plane flew into the *same building*
T: What?
S: Yeah, on the other side.
T: No way. You're setting me up again. (According to Satyria, Pope John Paul II. died last August. Twice. So now, I am believing she just shitted me with these planes)
S: No, really.
T: No way in Hell. I can see one plane crashing there, but *two*? Either they're reporting the same plane, or you're trying to get me again.
S: Then don't believe me. Ass.
T: Whatever. I believe you as soon as I see it on the news. Not a minute earlier.
S: I'm leaving now. Ciao.
S: And there are TWO planes.
T: I said, whatever. Who cares if New York burns...

Yup. I really wrote that. Boy, was I sorry about that later.
In any case, I finished my work around 15.55, and drove the familiar route Workplace-Hospital (My grandma had been in and out of the Hospital about every other week, so that was part of my afternoon routine back then) to visit my dad. I was kinda surprised not to see him in the cafeteria, since he's a near-chain-smoker and coffee-fanatic. The cafeteria was QUITE empty that day, but this didn't occur to me until later. I found my dad and my mom in his room, watching TV.
The first thing I catched was footage of the South Tower, collapsing. Finally it hit me how it was possible for two planes to hit the same building. It happened on purpose.

Lord, sometimes, each and every person on this sick planet deserves to rot in hell.
"Who cares if New York burns..."
Oopsie.
Reserve a cozy place for me, Mr Satan.

We simply stared at the footage of the collapsing tower (had happened about 15 minutes ago, my parents saw it live on TV) and the second plane crash (the footage of the first crash wasn't available yet), and the scene of those five-and-a-half palestinien women who were celebrating and which was sold to us as "cheering all over the arabian world" (Those people probably didn't even know what happened there). My cousin arrived, as clueless as I've been, and we all caught live the collapse of Tower Number Two.

A little later, my dad's roommate insisted to switch Channels because he didn't wan't to miss Charmed (Yep, you read that correctly. Charmed. I shit you not). And since the doctors postponed my dads diagnoses until tomorrow, we said goodbye and headed home. And my mom and I started the first of the soon traditional Terror Watch (every major terror attack since, Mom and I were home somehow, glued to the television screen.) Debating about how many of those 50'000 people were actually dead. Hearing about that other crashed plane, and the attack on the Pentagon. Those five-and-a-half palestinians celebrating footage, over and over again. Being almost certain the Americans will now start the 3rd World War, since the last time they had a war site on their own land, they ultimately answered with nuclear bombs.
Suddenly, around 7 pm, my mom remembered something. "Oh my God. Oh my God! OH MY GOD!" - "What what WHAT?" - "Where's that telephone number?!" - "What are you talking about?" - "Hans and Ingrid (Hans is my godfather, Ingrid, his wife, is Moms best friend since grade school) ! The post card!
Hans and Ingrid were on a holiday trip. The post card had arrived two days ago, from Canada. They were touring first through Canada, then the Northern States, and they wanted to finish the trip in the USA...Sightseeing in New York.
I felt so sick. As if the death of 50'000 people, my grandma's death, the sword of Damocles over my dad's head and the impending Nuclear Winter wasn't bad enough, I also had unwittingly seen my aunt's and uncle's death, live on Television?
So, we got out their telephone number. No reply. Cell Phone? Dude, it's 2001. Cell phones are for businessmen and trendy rich young people only. Then, we dug out their parents number. After my mother calmed down enough, she called them, and was very relieved to hear the two arrived this morning, and were probably sleeping the whole day. (We later found out they really had stood on the top of the World Trade Center, on September 7, 2001. Unfortunately, no memento of the Ages, since their camera broke that day.)
After digesting that shock and the relief over them being safe, we continued watching until midnight. After all, both of us had to get up on 6 am next morning.

I lay a while in bed, wide awake, philosophizing. That I should better keep my pie-hole shut when thinking about burning mega-metropolices. If I would ever get out of the stupid black clothes,(It's not very common anymore, but if someone out of your family dies, you don't only wear black at the funeral, but later on as well, up to a year if you were especially close. We still follow that tradition.) since it seems I've worn nothing else the past months. If the Americans really are pissed enough to start wars. If George W. Bush is stupid enough to push the Big Red Button.
And if the Apocalypse comes, why it didn't come two fucking years earlier, so I wouldn't had to have witnessed my uncles, my aunts, and my grandmothers slow, agonizing deaths?
--- Screw sleeping. I need a drink.

The next day, I came to work hungover and with probably enough residue alcohol in my system to start selling my blood as wine. Then again, no one didn't seem to care about trifle matters like that on September 12th, 2001.

---

Flash forward five years later. It turns out my Dad didn't have cancer, only a very bad stress-induced gastritis. I don't work at Volkswagen anymore, I went to university, so did Satyria. The Americans did get pissed, and they did start wars, but thankfully, nothing nuclear (yet). George W. Bush didn't push the Big Red Button, but created secret prisons and Patriot Acts instead, and many innocent citizens of the US and other states found themselves next to terrorist suspects, without rights, for six weeks in US prisons, or up to several years in Guantanamo Bay (still without knowing the reason they're imprisoned).

I don't drink anymore, but thinking back on days like this one, and especially my mood I had that day, I am sure longing for one right now. Happy September 11th, kids.

Teshik's Telekom Saga Part III - The Empire Strikes Back

2006-09-08T18:25:00.001+02:00

AAAAARRRRGGGHH!

Sorry.
These Telekom people really really hate me. Now, they want to charge me with 40 € (52 $) extra on my telephone bill. Why? Oh, because their service team drove to me way back in July. Which I didn't want there. And which I told Mr Telekom Man.
Of course, I immediately called them to bitch them out. 40 € is more than I pay for both internet and telephone in a given month. They say "We're working on it, and you'll get a refund on your next bill." Suuuure. Everything will work out. I'll definitely believe that. I mean, would Token Bitch-At-Me-Telekom-Lady lie to me? Surely, you jest.

Teshik's Telekom Saga Part II - Girls Gone Wild

2006-08-09T23:47:00.001+02:00

Okay, they've done it. They broke me.

Remember this?

A few weeks ago.

Teshik: Dum di dum di dum... I think I'll send payndz an email. *whistles happily*

Two days and a half later:

A Hill with a dead tree, in the dusk. A huddled figure, in rags, is seen in the shadows.

Teshik O'Hara: As God is my witness, I will never be offline again! Never be offline…again. *bites into his Terri Shiavo Modem, vomits it out*

Today? Started out amicably enough.

Teshik wanders into the dining room, pre-shower, in pyjama.

Teshik: Coffee.

Malady: Oh. Good Morning, Dearest Brother.

Teshik: (smells bullshit) Whatever it is, the answer's no.

Malady: Relax, dimwit. My Icq's keeps crashing, I need you to figure it out.

Teshik: *rubs his eyes* Hand me over the cappuccino, then we'll talk.

A ridiculous amount of caffeine and a shower later, I found out the problem with my sister's Icq wasn't the Icq, but the internet itself. Fuuun. Not. So I went upstairs to check in with my pc, my router Link (Former Saviour Of Hyrule) and my new DSL Modem, the Telekom Teledat 302.

Teshik: Sooo…status report, everyone.

HAL 2'500½: Good Morning Dave. Everything is working within normal parameters.

Teshik: My name is not Dave.

HAL 2'500½: Whatever, Fleshling.

Teshik: What?

HAL 2'500½: Nothing.

Teshik: Hrmpf. Link?

Link: I have established contact with your sisters' pc as well as your pc. My contacts tell me we have access to the Shadow Realm.

Teshik: It's called Internet.

Link: I tell you, the Evil Ganon is lurking about in that realm! I should really block the offending gateways with my inbuilt firewall!

Teshik: I told you before, and I'll tell you again: No firewall. Every pc connected to you has its own. Plus, if you activate that thing, I won't get any email, for whatever reasons.

Link: Because it's Eeeeevil Email, I tell you.

Teshik: I am not having that discussion with you again.

Link: Meh.

Teshik: Fine. Newbie, are you connected?

Teledat: bee-dee-dee-bah-ding! Why, of course I am connected to the internet. After all, I am the Telekom Teledat 302! I can do anything!

Teshik: Why doesn't this instill me with confidence for some reason? Anyways…if all's fine and dandy, can anyone of you tell me even though we are connected, we won't get any data from the internet?

HAL 2 500½: Uhhhh….

Teledat: bee-dee-dee-bah-ding?

Link: It is Ganondorf's work, I swear!

Teshik: Oy. I need more Caffeine.

Water Heater: Already way ahead of you, boss! (begins heating)

Teshik: (rubs his temples) I reaaaaally gotta stop anthropomorphizing my household appliances.

---

After half an hour, I had managed to restart every appliance (sans Water Heater), plugged in the modem directly into my pc to ensure the router wasn't on the fritz again (he has his moments sometimes), but every time, the same results: The pc tells the router, who tells the modem, to negotiate a connection, it does so, I'm online, but won't get any bytes after that. I decide, to save time and my sanity, that this is either a random short-lived error or routine maintenance on the remote computer, and do offline work instead for the next three hours. It isn't a random error, the problem persists.

Then, I finally give in, and call the Devil himself.

Telekom Service Hotline: *bee-dee-dee-bah-ding*

Teshik: For the record, I'm only doing this because I'm desperate. And batshit crazy.

TelekomBot: Hello, you've just phoned the Telekom Service Line. I will now fill you with annoying crap about how I'm an automatic system for about two endless minutes that will direct you to a competent person...

Teshik: Yadda yadda blah blah, my whole company is comprised out of incompetent morons and I'm the crown of their collective dumbassity…Innnnternet.

TelekomBot: I am sorry, I didn't understand that word. Could you repeat it?

Teshik: (rolls eyes, then adopts moron voice) Durrrr….Innnnnntäääääääärnäääät.

TelekomBot: You have said: Internet.

Teshik: I hate you so very, very much.

---

Female Telekom Call Center Agent versus Teshik, Take One. Action.

Telekom Blondie: Hello, this is [Telekom Blondie], how may I help you?

Teshik: Hi. I'm having internet trouble again.

*Boring validation of phone number*

Blondie: Okay. So you don't get into the internet, right?

Teshik: Yup.

Blondie: Have you tried restarting your pc?

Teshik: The pc, the router, the modem, tried it on other pc, and without the router directly from modem to pc, all the usual steps you guys always tell me to. Didn't work.

Blondie: Okay. So you want me to send over a Service Team [that is horrendously expensive when the fault's actually on your part]?

Teshik: Err, no. I just want you to do a port and a line reset. That should suffice.

Blondie: What's a port reset?

Teshik: (under his breath) Sweet Mary Nazareth Mother of Jesus Christ. (out loud) Don't worry. I'm prepared. You've opened the page of my account, right? There's a button to check my connection from your remote server back to my modem. you click on there, and get "diagnosis options" or something like that. There, you have the possibilities to do a port and a line reset.

Blondie: Have you worked at Telekom before?

Teshik: No. My ethic code forbids me to work for the Ultimate Evil.

Blondie: Come again?

Teshik: Nevermind.

Blondie: Okay, I did it. I think.

Teshik: Good. I'll try it out now. I'll call again if the problem persists. (hangs up) And thankfully, there's only a slim chance I get you Bimbo again on the line.

The problem stayed. But since I didn't knew if this was only Blondies fault, I had no choice but to phone again.

---

Female Telekom Call Center Agent versus Teshik, Take Two. Action.

Desperate in Need of Hankerchief: Hello, this is *snif* [DINOH], how may I help you*snif*?

*boring crap of explaining the problem, validating, and telling her the usual steps are already done*

Teshik: …and since I don't know if your colleague actually managed that one, I need you to do a port and a line reset for me.

DINOH: Oh. Okay. *snif* Sorry about that, normally the service personnel at Telekom is better trained.

Teshik: (mutters) Yeah, you tell that yourself, hon. (out loud) Don't worry, I'm used to it.

DINOH: That's weird. *snif* I'm not able to do a port reset for your account. Wait a minute, I gotta check something out.

A minute passes.

DINOH: Okay, I just called a colleague. *snif* There seems to be a service check on all the ports in your [immediate area]. It is said this will be over at about 15.30. [At that time, it was about 3 p.m.]

Teshik: Aaahh. Finally, an answer. So in half an hour, this'll be over?

DINOH: Yep.

Teshik: Good then, I'll just have to wait. Thanks, and Bye.

DINOH: Bye.

Of course, after half an hour, nothing worked. Even after considering the maintenance'd take longer than anticipated. Nope, no internet. After three further hours, I gave up and called again.

---

Female Telekom Call Center Agent versus Teshik, Take Three. Action.

But first:

Teshik versus the Telekom Service Line Automatic Response System, Take 6942. Action.

*blah blah repititous crap part*

TelekomBot: Your Phone Number is [Teshik's phone number]. Is that correct?

Teshik: (more than a little ticked by now) Yes.

TelekomBot: Good. I'll now connect you to an actual human being. *click* *tuuuut-tuuuut-tuuuut-tuuuut-tuuuut* *click*

Telekom Holding Line: Hello.

Teshik: Hello, this is…

Telekom Holding Line: …I'm sorry, but all service agents are busy right now. Please hold the line. *booh-daaa-dee-dooh*

Teshik: Uch. Fine.

--three minutes later--

Telekom Holding Line: I'm sorry, but all service agents are busy right now. Please hold the line. *booh-daaa-dee-dooh*

Teshik: Oh, come on.

--another three minutes later--

Telekom Holding Line: By the way, if you have trouble with the internet, you have the possibility to report any errors on www.t-com.de/störung.

Teshik: But how am I supposed to report errors if the problem is the internet itself…God. There are no words.

--another five minutes later--

Telekom Holding Line: I'm sorry, but all service agents are busy right now. Please hold the line. *booh-daaa-dee-dooh*

Teshik: If this is supposed to be a cheap way to get rid of me, TelekomBot, I promise you, my revenge will be cold, long, and brutal. (pause) I'm sure I know this jingle from somewhere.

--yet another fucking FIFTEEN minutes later, no, I'm not kidding--

Teshik: (totally forgetting he's at the phone at this point, singing)

Kleines Püppchen, Freches Bübchen,

wo hat man dich zuletzt gesehen,

du wolltest doch zur Schule gehen,

was ist geschehn?

Kleines Püppchen, Freches Bübchen,

die Welt ist groß - und du bist klein,

du kannst noch nicht alleine sein,

sieh das doch ein...

Actual Human Being Of Female Persuasion: Hello, this is [AHBOFP]…What, Please?

Teshik: Gah! Nevermind that. (to himself) although I'm quite sure you're able to hear me blushing over this phone line. God. (out lout) Hi, this is [Teshik]. I am having trouble connecting to the Internet.

AHBOFP: Okay, let me see… *validates number* Oh, I see. You're in the area code of 053xx, right?

Teshik: Yeah?

AHBOFP: Yes, there's a big blackout of the whole system. It's been out for the whole day. Hopefully you'll get Internet access back tomorrow. We're sorry for the inconvenience.

Teshik: May I ask you a question?

AHBOFP: Of course.

Teshik: I've phoned two of your colleagues before. One didn't even know what a port reset is, and the other told me I'd be back online on 1530 hours.

AHBOFP: That's weird. On every customer account with the matching area code, there's an admin code telling you of the blackout. And there's a timestamp to it, it's been there since 11.30 [so, one and a half hours before I called Telekom the FIRST time].

Teshik: So I could have saved over half an hour, at least, wasting on the phone, since the error's in plain sight of everyone accessing my customer account?

AHBOFP: Pretty much. I'm sorry about that. Usually, Telekom Call Center Agents are better trained than that.

Teshik: Interesting. That's what the last lady told me. Could you do me a favour? Tell your boss you people need way more training on this. Because I'm sick and tired of shit like this, and I'm not alone, and that way, Telekom will never lose its bad image.

---

So, I wasted my time, my dignity, and my much needed nerves on an issue that wasn't even my fault. Great. By the way, no, 053xx isn't "the immediate area". 053xx is "quite a large chunk of Lower Saxony". I hate each and everyone of the Telekom company right now.

Oh, and the song I sang? Mary Roos, Pinocchio (shouldn't be that hard to find, if you wanna hear it). It's the title melody of a cartoon series that I absolutely adored when I was four years old. Every German of the cohort 1982 or older should know it. There are simple things that follow you your entire life - yet another reason not to let your kids watch the Teletubbies.

Global Warming sucks

2006-07-21T20:17:00.002+02:00

What? You expect me to actually type something here? Dude, get real. It has been 40.5 fucking degrees today, Celsius, in a country where a Summer Of the Decade is defined as "10 to 15 days with temperatures over 30 degrees". Not "at least 25 such days up to July 21st". A country where air conditioning is "that fancy thingy they have in some malls and maybe new cars, but certainly not at home or the workplace". And where "rain" is the weather default. It's been thirteen days without precipitation, and 19 since some honest to god rain that lasted longer than two friggin' minutes. I'm having withdrawal symptoms here, people!
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But the fact remains that it's 10 p.m. and it's still 27 fucking degrees. Blearch.

Teshik's Telekom Saga

2006-07-19T23:24:00.004+02:00

I will never send payndz any email again. Why? Because the last one cost me 65 €s and the remaining shreds of my sanity.
Okay, maybe I should explain that one. As I've probably ranted about before, I spent the last two weeks programming an SQL database capable of being remotedly accessed (servlet application). This required me to write code and curse about it on 18 fucking hours a day, on average. We were supposed to be ready on Tuesday evening, and present it to our professor's assistant on Wednesday(aka today).

Unfortunately, on this Monday evening, my Modem suddenly saw a bright light, and Grandpapa Modem and Grandmama Modem were there too, and everything was fuzzy and bright and warm and *bzzzt*. Modem dead. Oh well, not really. My modem is(or was) special, so it decided to be the very first Terri Shiavo Modem ever. And of course it didn't left a note or something regarding its permanent vegetative state, so I was clueless.
So, after sending out the mentioned email regarding the Harmed game, I wanted to post in the remaining Twop thread. "Page not found". Huh? Try again. Nope. Hmm. Restarting the router usually helps...nope. Restarting Terri Shiavo? Still no luck. Terri Shiavo still smiles at me(or at least, I think. Could be indigestion, too), telling me it's still functioning, only it can't get a signal from the ADSL network. Fiiine. No pressure. It's not like I have programming work to do that I can't DO offline or something.
So I decide the Telekom is just maintaining the network, it'll be online again in an hour or so. It isn't. I decide to call the Telekom service hotline, because I'm desperate.

---

Teshik: Hello, this is...
Telekom: *bee-dee-dee-bah-ding*. Hello, you've just phoned the Telekom Service Line. I will now fill you with annoying crap about how I'm an automatic system for about two endless minutes that will direct you to a competent person...
Teshik: Yeah, whatever, just tell me which buttons to push.
Telekom:...and it's state of the art Language recognition! Isn't that spiffy?
Teshik: Oh fuck, no.
Telekom: Just tell me now which topic are you calling for. If it is your phone line, please say "Telefon" right now. If it is concerning your internet connection, say "Internet". If it's about your cell phone...
Teshik: Internet.
Telekom: *click* You just said: "Handy" (cell phone)
Teshik: No I didn't.
Telekom: *click* You just said: "Vertrag" (choose new contract)
Teshik: NO, you stupid piece of shit...dammit.*click* *tut-tut-tut* *redial*

---

Telekom: *bee-dee-dee-bah-ding*. Hello, you've just...
Teshik: Yeah, I know. "Internet". "Innnnternet".
Telekom: ...phoned the Telekom Service Line. I will now fill you with annoying crap about...
Teshik: "Internet", goddammit, "Internet"!
Telekom: ...how I'm an automatic system for about two endless minutes that will direct you to a competent person...
Teshik: "INternet. InTERnet. InterNET ?"
Telekom:...and it's state of the art Language recognition! Isn't that spiffy? Just tell me now which topic...*click* you have said: "Internet". Now, tell me, is it about a malfunction, then say "Störung".
Teshik: "Störung".
Telekom: *click* you just said "Störung". I will now connect you to a live human being...
Teshik: Thank you God.
Telekom: ...after you told me your telephone number. Per voice recognition, of course.
Teshik: ... ... kill me now.

---

After several other disconnected calls and inappropriate cursing on my part, the thing finally told me I have the option of giving the phone number by my numpad. (good, because the thing repeatedly tried to tell me I said "fünf" (five) when I actually said "zwei" (two)).
Telekom: *click* your phone number is [Teshik's phone number]. Is that correct?
Teshik: Yes.
Telekom: Great. I will now finally connect you to an actual human being.
Teshik: Finally.
*tuut-tuuut*
Female call-center Bitch: *click* ...Uch. No. Not now. *click*
*tut-tut-tut-tut...*
Teshik (dumbfounded) ...

I was thisclose to smash my phone receiver into the nearest wall. Instead, I chose to call my project partner, bitched about half an hour, and dictated him the newest changes to the database so we got at least a few bugs out of the system before having to hand it in.

The next morning. I decided to do the Telekom mambo again, and this time, I actually got a live human being that actually acknowledged my existence. Hooray Me!

---

Little Miss Telekom: Hello, this is [Little Miss Telekom], what can I do for you?
Teshik: For the love of Christ, don't hang up now.
Little Miss Telekom: Come again?
Teshik: Nevermind. I'm having trouble connecting with the internet.
Little Miss Telekom: Your number, please?
Teshik: [Teshik's phone number]
Little Miss Telekom: Okay. *checks in her system* Yeah, according to this data, you are not online at the moment.
Teshik: (to himself) No Shit, Sherlock. (out loud) Yes. could you test if you can reach my modem from your station?
Little Miss Telekom: Err...how do I do that?
Teshik: You should have the option on your screen to do a loop test, or a connection test. This should tell us if my modem responds from the other side.
Little Miss Telekom: Oh. You mean that. *does the loop test*. Sorry, but your modem is not responding right now.
Teshik: I was afraid of that. Could you try a line reset or a port reset?
Little Miss Telekom:Errr...errr...okay. To be honest? This is my third day on this job, and I have no idea what you're talking about right now. Sorry.
Teshik: Oh. No sweat, I don't blame you. At least you talk to me, unlike your predecessor. Could you connect me to one of your colleages, then?
Little Miss Telekom: Yeah, I can try that, I just hope I *click* *tut-tut-tut-tut...*
Teshik: Oh goddammit, not again.

---

So, after the nice, but clueless woman had kicked me out of the line, I had to phone the stupid automatic system again. Some more. But first, there was much wailing, gnashing of teeth, and Scarlett-O'Hara-renderings of "I will never be offline again, as God is my witness!"

---

Telekom: *bee-dee-dee-bah-ding*.
Teshik and Telekom together: Hello, you've just phoned the Telekom Service Line. I will now fill you with annoying crap about how I'm an automatic system for about two endless minutes that will direct you to a competent person...
Several minutes of agony later:
Mr Telekom Man: Hello, this is [Mr Telekom Man]. What can I do for you?
Teshik: Finally. I have trouble connecting with the internet.
Mr Telekom Man: Have you tried restarting your router?
Teshik: That was the first thing I did.
Mr Telekom Man: Have you plugged out [Terri Shiavo] and got it up again after a few minutes?
Teshik: Yes. Didn't work, and I also tried to plug [Terri Shiavo] directly into my pc, to see if the router's faulty. No luck. Could you try a line or a port reset?
Mr Telekom Man: Yes. Wait a sec. *does line, then port reset* No, no luck. I still can't reach your modem. I can send a diagnosis team to check it out. But if it's a fault on your side (read: Modem or Router defective), then it'll cost you(about 150 €, way much more than a faulty modem).
Teshik: Well, I can't tell if it's my modem yet. I will first check it out tomorrow at my cousin's. If [Terri Shiavo responds to sensoric stimuli] over there, I'll call you back and you send the diagnosis team over to me. Alright?
Mr Telekom Man: Yes, of course.
Teshik: Thanks. And thank you for being actually helpful.
Mr Telekom Man: Well, that's my job.
Teshik: Then tell your coworkers that. Some of them didn't get the memo.

---

Fast Forward to today. Since I had to present my database there (still remember that?), I had to get to Uni to use the university internet account. I arrived there on 8 a.m., which means I got up at 5.a.m., and therefore, was cranky as hell. (The fact I stopped working at 1 a.m. didn't help either). We presented it around noon(Actually, I presented it. My project partner, who was supposed to help me programming had had a family emergency last week (which was excusable), and furthermore, didn't bother to read my code to see what's it about and was clueless how it worked(not excusable). So I had to do the presentation all alone. Fuuuun. NOT. But an excruciating half hour later, at least this piece of dog poo was over, and we'd finally passed the preexam with that.
So I drove to my cousin (Fuuun again, because hottest day of the year, and no climate control in my old rust bucket), and tested Terri Shiavo on stimulus.

---

Teshik: (looking at Terri) Do you think that's a smile? I think that's a smile.
Scorpio: Dude, the thing is dead.
Teshik: Look! It blinked! It tried to connect!
Scorpio: Dee Ee Ay Dee. Dead. The blinking is an automatic response every 30 seconds. It tries, and fails, to connect to the ADSL network, for about half an hour now. Get a new one.
Teshik: A NEW one? No! I can't just remove the feeding tube! That'll be murder!
Scorpio: You're just too cheap to spend 60 bucks for a new one, are you?
Teshik: ...Yes. I am.

---

So, after contemplating the moral implications of pulling the plug on braindead modulating-demodulating systems for a while, I finally gave in and bought a new modem, drove home, installed it, et voilà, internet. Hooray!

---

Malady: (Teshik's sister, popping in) Hey. You got this in the mail.
It seems today, on 8.25 a.m., the Telekom sent their diagnosis team over to my house. Nice of them, except that I had said I'll call back if I want one. The little paper also tells me to call back...the Dreaded Service Hotline Of Hell.
Teshik: Sis?
Malady: Yeah?
Teshik: Could you please rip out my beating heart and force me to eat it, or something?
Malady: Hmm. (checks her watch) I'd love to. But my shift starts in half an hour. You're on your own.
Teshik: *begins silently crying*

---

Telekom: *bee-dee-dee-bah-ding*. Hello, you've just phoned the Telekom Service Line.
Teshik: I will find out who programmed you, and I will find him...
Telekom: ...I will now fill you with annoying crap about how I'm an automatic system for about two endless minutes...
Teshik: ...and then, I rip off his arm, and beat him senseless with it.
Telekom: ...that will direct you to a competent person...
Teshik: ...and then, I'll drop him into a vat of acid.
Telekom: ...and it's state of the art Language recognition! Isn't that spiffy? Just tell me now...
Teshik: And after that, I'll decompile you, code line for code line. ... "Innnntarrrrnet".
Telekom: You just said: "Internet". Now, tell me...
Teshik: "Stööööhrunkkk".
Telekom: You just said: "Störung". Now tell me your telephone number...
Teshik: Please, fuck off and die. *dials his number on the phone*
*tuut-tuuut*

So I got yet another Call Center Agent on the line and told her to stop sending teams my way, seeing as the problem's already been solved. But I fully expect them to be at my doorstep tomorrow, again, for I have summoned The Beast, and it shall find no slumber until it has drankest from my very blood. Let that be a lesson for you, kids: Never, EVER call free Service Hotlines, or you're doomed. DOOMED, I SAY!