It's been approximately two and a half days since I returned from what I'm thinking about calling "Sausage Fest 2006", because I love subtle innuendo where it has no place. I talked myself hoarse while narrating my pictures to dad and Linda, and discussed the differences in restaurant culture with a manager at work and I'm already trying to find different topics of conversation. I'm going to give myself until Christmas to talk and/or gush about my trip, and after that I'm going to try to move on. No one likes the annoying kid who begins every anecdote with "Well, when I was in (insert exotic and exciting locale)...". Like band camp stories, but not quite as lame.
When I was in Berlin, Germany...
...I had to pay 2 euro 50 cents for 8 ounces of water at restaurants
...I spoke a good deal of a German/English hybrid, and am still having problems speaking/reading in English-only
...a large bird escaped from the zoo which required Politzei on bicycles with nets to yell "HALT!" at pedestrians
...I saw a lot of really depressing, but really, really cool places and buildings
...no one would apologize if they ran into you while walking
...I smuggled a half dozen little packets of single-serving Nutella over the border
...the Reichstag (parliment building) went on lockdown while we were on a tour
...the Lostprophets rocked out and I chatted up two members of The Blackout
...some girls and I got stranded a couple miles away from our hotel mere hours away from when we were supposed to leave for the airport due to false promises of a 24 hour train system
...I really, really, really missed people here
I've never been entirely sure that I understand what "jetlag" is or feels like, but I do know that my body has never, ever woken itself up naturally at 7:30am, especially when my only obligation of the day starts at 5:30pm.
This Christmas is going to be a really lean one, at least on my end. The money situation is kind of dire and so my gifts for the very, very immediate family are super lame and somewhat inexpensive. I'm aware that it's "the thought that counts" but I still feel like a bad loved-one, even though I did put an excruciatingly large amount of thought into the gifts.
"Sexy Back" is my latest guilty pleasure.
Making a cake with one of my favorite people on the planet was one of the best belated birthday gifts I could have hoped for. The cake is delicious and the company was, as always, fabulous and reminded me that I don't see her nearly enough. I guess one of the bright sides of Alex running away to a big, fancy university is that I might see ol' Shiny Hair more often.
This entry is pretty long and somewhat pointless, but just one more thing before I peace out: Is it better to pretend that the inevitable isn't going to happen in less than a month, or is it better to worry about it because it is, well, inevitable? Fears about the near future have been slightly assuaged by a somewhat offhand comment about the far future, but make neither point in time any less scary.