Too much information?

Our apartment didn't come with curtains, blinds or anything that would maintain our privacy when wandering around the house whatsoever. We do have big metal window coverings to put over the windows at night and during the long, cold winter but they do have a tendency to look like we're turning our house into a bomb shelter as we prepare for the apocalypse, so we don't tend to use them.

The point to me telling you this is that our neighbour's patio is directly next to ours, and therefore they can see through our kitchen window and into the lounge room. This wouldn't be an issue if I ever remembered this, but I don't, and I think they've probably seen enough to paint me like one of Jack's French girls....

Just thought I'd quote Titanic there...too much information?

Anyways, so I am quite the ninja when it comes to drunken text messaging. Mine are usually grammatically correct and roughly spell checked - ever the perfectionist - and usually go something like this:

"Look I'm drunk but I just wanted to tell you I love you and you're so pretttyyyyyyy and smart and funny I love youuuuuuu"

At least I'm complimentary?

Usually I do cringe face and check my facebook and phone immediately when I get up and sure enough there are always messages from me and usually people replying with "Big night? :D "

Yes. It was. Now excuse me whilst I tell you and anyone else I messaged that whilst you are smart (debatable), funny (also debatable) and pretty (Beauty is in the eye of the beholder...) - I don't love you, I never have and am probably not about to start....mah bad.

Now my friends, knowing that I do this, nearly always take my phone off me, log me out of facebook and keep an eye on me so this doesn't happen. How successful do you think they are? Somehow I always find the phone, get on to facebook and tell everyone just how special they are to me...

On the bright side, I am a peace loving drunk who just wants to sing and dance and tell people they're beautiful and maybe cry like that girl out of mean girls who "doesn't even go here!" when people tell me they get it, they're beautiful and I really want to say "NO, YOU DON'T GET IT! You're so pretttyyyyy". Well, at least I'm not the red-headed version of Paris Hilton getting a little too affectionate and making a film of it or Mel Gibson punching people and being racist, see - silver lining to everything!

Anyways study to do and a cat to feed -

Hope all is well.

The morning after...

I'm in pain this morning.

My head is saying "I told you so," my stomach is doing playful somersaults at the thought of food and the rest of me is praying for McDonalds and Panadol. That being said, Eurovision was great (after a few drinks) and despite the sad lack of Switzerland in the finals I'd call it a good night.

So yesterday I went to Filderstadt to look after a friend's cats. Resisting the urge to give in to my crazy inner cat woman, I didn't take the cats home with me and instead ventured to the bus stop only to find I had a 20 minute wait in the sun. Rangas don't like the sun. It doesn't suit us, we burn or freckle - not sure which is worse. So I casually sat on the steps of some random's house to get in the shade. I did notice the curtains shuffling about and a head peering out at me but I pretty much ignored it until a man in his late forties came out and started nervously questioning me about my reasons for sitting in front of his house. Now, judging by his reaction, I can only assume that he thought I was planning to kidnap his wife and children or something... Luckily before he could shoo me away, his wife came out and told him to leave me be - I was clearly harmless - she then topped it with "wow, just look how white she is honey, she'll die in that sun" Accurate. But hurtful...

Later on that day Ash came over and we were quickly taking out the rubbish so I didn't bother to a) put shoes on, b) take my phone or wallet with me or c) bring the house keys, instead choosing to leave the door open just a crack.... So of course the door didn't stay open and we got locked out. Now, I don't deal with stress particularly well....and after I had completely flipped out, I proceeded to check if any neighbours were home and flip out a bit more each time no one came to the door. It's school holidays - no one is home. So I went in to the restaurant that is below our apartment, looking like some kind of hippie with my lack of shoes and asked for a ladder. Now I live on the second floor and it's at least 7m up if not more, so whilst telling the waiter what had happened, the boss there recognised me and couldn't breathe he was laughing so hard. Luckily his young bartender came to the rescue and brought the ladder and held it as Ash - The best friend of all time - climbed up the suspicious looking ladder and monkied his way onto the porch.

So whilst I'm freaking out, hoping my best friend doesn't fall and crack his head open on the concrete, the young bartender is hitting on me. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but surely he would have assumed Ash - the boy who despite my ear-splitting tantrum, is climbing up a wall for me so I can get into my home -  was my boyfriend no? I think that was the only time I've ever wanted that error to be made, because bartender boy clearly wasn't really holding the ladder secure for Ash and I highly doubt he would have caught him if he fell. Luckily Ash proved himself quite the ninja and succeeded, leaving Bartender Boy to mumble something about me coming to the restaurant more often before quietly shuffling off.

So what have I learnt from this you might ask? Well it would seem that stress drives boys up the wall...

Hope all is well.

Poor Switzerland.

Yup, it's that time of the year again kiddies. The trees are singin', the birds are swingin' and Ash and I are gearing up for the highpoint of our annual social calendar - Eurovision.

Now I know you're probably thinking - get a life - and trust me, I'm working on it, but until then we are hosting a Eurovision party tonight during which we shall - well, watch Eurovision - and drink until it's bearable...

You see the game runs roughly the same way the Smurfs drinking game works. Basically every time they say the key word (Eurovision), or no one votes for Switzerland (sucks to be neutral), you drink - Simple! Now of course there are other rules, but unless anyone is planning on putting themselves through the pain of actually watching Eurovision I won't go into too much detail...

And what is the history of Eurovision I don't hear you asking? Good question! And to be honest I have no idea, I could just google it but it's easier just to assume that in a bid to avoid any more warfare, Europe have decided to fight their battles out on the stage in glitter and spandex and have even invited Israel and other clearly non-european countries along for the EUROvision ride. What I do know is that no one is ever any good, England cheats and gets famous people like Justin Timberlake to perform for them, ABBA won it back in the 70's and because every country is diplomatic about their choices and votes for the biggest threat/their neighbours in a bid to avoid starting a war - no one votes for Switzerland.

Poor Switzerland. Well, at least they have their army knives and cheese...

Anyways my satanic cat is begging to be fed now. Bubba has recently taken to licking my nose till I get up in the mornings...I know where that tongue has been - eww. Oh and he seems to be developing a nasty habit of trying to sit on our guest's faces...I think I prefer the tongue to nose action really....

Hope all is well.

(Possibly Hypocritical) Fashion Rant.

Ok let me be honest (as ever) - I hate German fashion. I hate the scarves, I hate the coloured pants and goddamnit if I see one more camel toe jump out at me coz girls think it's ok to wear their jeans so tight that I can see their birth canal then imma have to hurt them...

1. Coloured pants (with the exception of crimson) are NEVER ok Germans. As Dr Seuss said "I do not like green eggs and ham" - ok maybe the quote doesn't work here in anyway, shape or form but if the pigmeat shouldn't be green then neither should your pants! Orange is also out and if I see one more of you wearing bright yellow pants with a stripey top imma have to drag you back into H&M so you can buy black or blue pants or some other shade (and not COLOUR) that doesn't rape my retinas.

2. Scarves. Functional yes, attractive....matter of opinion, ok in 30 degree heat? NO. Just stop it, all of you! The fact that the average german male owns more scarves than the entire population of Australia is of great concern to me, not only does it make me think they're trying to be Indie...(don't even get me started on those.....damn hipsters) but it means that they are almost guaranteed to be wearing coloured pants with said scarf....and I've made my position on those babies quite clear I should think....

3. Floral. I hate it. I really hate it. To make matters worse Germans have now introduced skin tight white floral pants that make the fashion gods want to cry tears of hate. This is also an item that people love to match with a nice coral coloured tank top and offensively bright scarf....just no.

4. Tight jeans. Ok good and bad. Germans have the best legs in the world. They are long, they are skinny and they are just awesome. Now that was the good part, unfortunately they know this and proceed to wear the tightest pants plausible. That's ok really, if you've got it flaunt it I guess. However, most women I think, also have the potential for camel toe and I would think you'd want to avoid showing that no? Apparently not....and now that summer is here I'm beginning to see the camel toe extend its reign from jeans...to shorts....eww.

Ok on the bright side, Germans have introduced me to tan pants (thankyou) and long sleeved dresses (thankyou), so it's not all bad....but there's definitely some room for improvement, just sayin'....

Hope all is well.

Summing it up.

Ok so it has been two months and I could go into detail about what has happened in that time but I realise you don't care and I don't really have the attention span for that, so there's an abridged version of my life's events at the bottom of this post if you feel like reading, otherwise:

I thought I'd inform you about Germans in the crossover period between Winter and Summer. You see the change of season is a difficult time for Germans everywhere. The Germs, usually accustomed to packing their summer clothing down in the cellar for the long winter months, don't really want to go back down to the dark and dingy depths of their houses in April or May to retrieve the aforementioned clothes and hence are confronted with the difficult decision as to whether they should change over their wardrobe yet or not. Of course they choose not to, because after all, it's not officially summer until June 21st -

- This then leads to them being inappropriately dressed in hot weather as only Germans can be. Tight pants and a long sleeve top with a scarf to match is not really my ideal outfit for the 30 degree weather we've been having of late and yet the Germans just sit in silence and suffer....staring me down for wearing shorts and a tank in the sweltering heat. I guess they're expecting Stuttgart to somehow turn into Melbourne and for it start snowing randomly or a downpour of rain to suddenly bring the temperatures back down so they can cackle at me and tell me that my shorts aren't long enough and that I might catch a chill....but let's face it, that's not gonna happen Germs...

Now this is not a criticism per-say....all I'm sayin' is that I have enough clothing to dress at least four African nations and yet I still manage to fit it all between my useless IKEA furniture and the floor....

But maybe I'm just feeling touchy about the large number of german women who do not believe me when I tell them I am an adult, (barely, I'll give you that) but none the less! The sheer number of German women between the age of 30-55 who think it is ok to tell me that a "girl just hitting her teenage years" or "someone so young as you" shouldn't be wearing makeup, or heels - even skirts seem to be off limits from the looks of it, is just ridiculous! I think it would be ok if they retracted their comments once I told them my age but it's usually followed with "now come on, don't lie" or "Oh. Seriously?" Somewhere between my 5"2 stature and bob I seem to have lost at least five years....well, flat shoes - the new anti-aging solution it would seem....

Anyways I'll leave it there, have some study to do so I at least only fail this exam (see below) a little bit....but here's the shortened version of my life in the past two months as promised:

- Went home to Australia, but you knew that already. I did manage to drag out my birthday celebrations for three whole days and fit 17 people into a hotel room for four... Then I proceeded to drag Magenta clubbing every night of every weekend as soon as she turned 18, *sigh* I miss my wingman.

- Found a new wingman, unfortunately this one is actually a man and people constantly ask if we are together before proceeding to look at us questioningly...don't be ridiculous - he has much better taste than that...

- Decided to stay in Germany to study and proceeded to begin preparing for the TestDaf (uni entrance exam for foreigners), which is both the most complicated and pointless exam I have ever attempted to pass....but if I fail I'll just go celebrate in Spain and if I pass - Poland's looking nice.......

Hope all is well.

Home sweet Home

I am now back in the homeland for the next six weeks after a painful 22.5 hour flight which saw me sit next to a fifty year old german man discussing his relationship issues (he was single and had never been married) with me for the first 14 hours, followed by a rather nice couple from the Netherlands on the second flight who were forced to get up at 45 minute intervals so I could pee.

I don't know what it is about flying exactly, but it just makes me angry. Certainly the idiots I am always forced to sit next to don't help. I mean seriously, I don't know at what point Mr. Germ thought I was interested in discussing his lack of a love life but the whole thing was like one really long and uninteresting episode of 'How I didn't meet your mother and turned to prostitutes instead' without the lovable Barney Stinson to make it funny. To add to that I felt exhausted the whole second flight but couldn't sleep. I'n not quite sure what it is about sitting in the window seat with two people sleeping peacefully next to me, but the whole thing just makes my bladder fill, which of course means that they have to get up every time I need to go...which was a lot...for no real reason. Maybe it was just subconscious revenge for the first 14 hours? Or maybe I was trying to find myself a man so I don't assault people with tears and cats at the age of 50. None the less they suggested that we switch seats - I refused....

And then comes the Jetlag. I slept all day Thursday and none of Friday. It is now Saturday and I'm debating playing dead fish till 7pm when I have a party to go to...I know. I am the party person. Can you sense just how much fun Imma be?

My bed is calling and telling me it's nap time now. I know - this post was mindblowingly riveting but I hope your day is somewhat more eventful than mine will be.

and as per usual -

Hope all is well.

Long time coming.

Ok I've been bad. There's been a shamefully large gap between posts but I've been travelling and got addicted to Game of Thrones...it's not my fault!

So during this rather large break I have:

Got a lot of my hair cut off (see picture). Worked out nicely really because they will now use the 38cm of hair I cut off to make a wig for a child with cancer. So I not only gave to charity, but I created a new Ginger without getting knocked up, I'm like a modern Virgin Mary

Got arrested. Well that was more of a misunderstanding really. Unlike in Australia, Germans take even the smallest law far too seriously. Cross a road whilst it's still red and they look like they're gonna die of shock and don't even THINK of eating a grape in a supermarket to check if they're any good (admittedly I don't do that...people touch that fruit and they are dirty), anyways so I was with my Russian couch surfer and we wanted to go one stop forward (he wasn't much of a walker...) so instead of paying the 1.10 euro for one stop, we just hopped on and got caught with no ticket. I cried, pretended I didn't speak any German and told them I was a tourist and yet those heartless controllers not only fined me 40 euro, but called the cops coz I didn't have my passport on me and apparently every other card (including my LICENSE) with my name and photo on it wasn't proof enough that I am in fact - me. For what it was worth though, the Police were so awesomely hot I felt that my being arrested at 11pm and having to call my mother was totally worth it...

I also went and saw one of my favourite bands (Rise Against) perform and watched the shameful efforts of the German Mosh Pit, I mean really people, is fist pumping all you can really manage? I want to see stretchers by the dozen taking people out of the crowd with broken ribs, black eyes and clumps of hair missing...that's moshing as it should be. That being said I never get in the mosh pit. A) because I don't want to die, B) because I'm too short to actually see the stage and C) because I don't want to die, so maybe I'm not exactly an expert here...

I also went to Paris with a large number of stereotypes in hand and not enough money for any normal person to get by on. I did Paris in five days on 180 euro (including transport), luckily if you're a citizen of the EU or live here and are under 26 then everything is free - Bazinga (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XfL4-C8OCys&feature=related) For what it is worth though I came back with 10 euro in hand and got a new perspective on stereotypes. I mean if one more person tells me that the French are rude, girly or that their capital city is filled with dog poo imma have to tell them that - well ok that's kinda right in some cases- but for the most part I found Paris to be quite clean and as long as they didn't think I was a gypsy asking for money they were up for giving me directions - shame they were nearly always in French...

Although I did almost have to become a Gypsy at one point when I missed my train back home to Stuttgart and was told I'd have to buy another ticket. Now if you book three days ahead it will cost around 50 euro, two hours before and it'll be around 200 euro. Given that I had exactly 10.40 euro to my name and that my phone was dead I knew I wasn't going anywhere and after a week of travel and...lots of wine tastings with my awesome hosts....I had no voice and a nasty cough. So I did what I always do when I want officials to feel sorry for me - I cried - and you know what? Not only did I get on the next express train to Stuttgart for free, but I was in the First Class cabin and got a free lunch to go along with it. I am the Ginger God.

That's it for now, need to go pack - My plane for Australia leaves in 9 hours! So excited!

Hope all is well.