The other day I saw a commercial for a shower gel on TV. For some reason this commercial got stuck in my mind, it somehow appealed to me. I distinctively remember thinking: Yeah, that stuff sounds good. Perhaps I should check it out.
The advertised product was Dove Men Care shower gel.
Today it so happened that I saw this very item on a shelf at the supermarket. Not just the shower gel, no, one of those gift bundles: A toiletry bag, in it shower gel, a shower-scrubby-thingy and, interestingly, two golf balls with 4 tees.
I immediately decided to buy it, for two reasons:
1. I have been wanting to get myself a nice toiletry bag for a long time. Throwing toothbrush and everything in a plastic bag all time just didn't seem right anymore.
2. I have been trying to a find a new suitable shower gel for a while now, and somehow Dove Men Care could be the right choice for me at this time in my life.
I have been using Axe a lot, but I am not 20 anymore. Gillette to me seems too flashy, Adidas and other sporty brands too athletic. Nivea is just too plain boring, I use it when there's not much to choose from. Store brand shower gels are out of the question anyway. Old spice and the likes is for old men. Hugo and similar brands are too fancy and too high society. You may understand that I really wasn't able to identify with any of the available shower gel brands. They just didn't represent me.
And along comes Dove Men Care. The commercial as well as the container's design carry a message that communicates a manly-ness that doesn't need to call for attention. Just Man. At the same time there's this underlying message of skincare, which makes the Man a Modern Man. It says: Yeah, I use skin care, but I'm not gay. My skin is soft and my cock is hard and ready, baby.
Awesome.
The stuff also seems to smell pretty decent.
Tomorrow I'll shower with it, I'll let you know how it performs.
PS: The golf balls say Dove Men Care on them. The printing is only noticable after opening the packaging. Great. That makes them basically useless for golfing. Who the fuck goes to play golf with shower gel golf balls? Definitely no Modern Man would ever do that.
Well, Dove Men Care gift pack assemblers, whoever had the golf ball idea just fucked up the whole image you so painstakingly created with the ad campaign. The shower-scrubby-thingy is also questionable, by the way. Even though it comes partially framed in manly plastic.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Conair
My 29.95 buck Conair machine refuses to perform unless set to "shortest". You can see the result here.
F.U. Conair, you will never touch my beard. Amen.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
World Cup
Ghana VS Germany, 0:0 after 45 minutes.
I'm almost having a heart attack here.
I am seriously considering not watching anymore. Remember Charlie Sheen ripping off the armrests in Hot Shots?
That's me.
Except I'm sitting in an upholstered armchair.
When the game is over it'll probably look like a bunch of grizzly bears have attacked it.
oh-oh, oh-oh.
I'm almost having a heart attack here.
I am seriously considering not watching anymore. Remember Charlie Sheen ripping off the armrests in Hot Shots?
That's me.
Except I'm sitting in an upholstered armchair.
When the game is over it'll probably look like a bunch of grizzly bears have attacked it.
oh-oh, oh-oh.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Wisdom For Life #1
Never buy cheap ham.
Reasons:
The flavour you're looking for will be non-existent.
The consistency will almost make you barf.
The little weird hard-to-bite spots within the "meat" will definitely make you barf.
All your other premium meal ingredients will be utterly wasted.
Example:
A nice big slice of Best-Value Ham (2kg 12 bucks).
A good portion of home-made mashed potatoes with mashed-in yam.
Three spoonfuls of imported premium quality German Sauerkraut.
A great self-made salad with organic ingredients.
What's gonna happen:
The digusting weirdness of the so called "ham" overshadowes the flavours of whatever else is on the plate. The possibility to enjoy or even savour the meal is non-existent. The urge to barf is ever-present. You force down the potato-mash, the sauerkraut, the salad, but their flavours remain pale at best. Even after removing the terrible "meat" from the plate the usual meal-associated satisfaction doesn't show.
Afterwards you feel physically full, but emotionally empty.
You throw the remaining "ham" into a garbage bag, then you take the garbage out.
Conclusion:
Never again a 12 buck ham. Lehrgeld (as they call it, learning money) nicely paid. Hopefully: Only once.
Reasons:
The flavour you're looking for will be non-existent.
The consistency will almost make you barf.
The little weird hard-to-bite spots within the "meat" will definitely make you barf.
All your other premium meal ingredients will be utterly wasted.
Example:
A nice big slice of Best-Value Ham (2kg 12 bucks).
A good portion of home-made mashed potatoes with mashed-in yam.
Three spoonfuls of imported premium quality German Sauerkraut.
A great self-made salad with organic ingredients.
What's gonna happen:
The digusting weirdness of the so called "ham" overshadowes the flavours of whatever else is on the plate. The possibility to enjoy or even savour the meal is non-existent. The urge to barf is ever-present. You force down the potato-mash, the sauerkraut, the salad, but their flavours remain pale at best. Even after removing the terrible "meat" from the plate the usual meal-associated satisfaction doesn't show.
Afterwards you feel physically full, but emotionally empty.
You throw the remaining "ham" into a garbage bag, then you take the garbage out.
Conclusion:
Never again a 12 buck ham. Lehrgeld (as they call it, learning money) nicely paid. Hopefully: Only once.
The Hits
Yes, I am ranting about the radio station again.
This time: "The Hits".
On "The Hits" they exclusively play "hits".
These so called "hits" are 99% terrible shit-songs that maybe 12 year olds like, but only because of peer pressure. Nevertheless today I suffered through it and listened closely for about 4 hours: from 9 AM until about 1 PM. In these 4 hours I found out:
They played Lady Gaga for a total of 6 times, alternating between "Telephone" and "Alejandro". That means a Lady Gaga song every 40 minutes. Further I've made a list of 11 other crappy songs which were played at least 2, some of them 3 or 4 times. That means every hour, every 90 minutes, every 2 hours. And then there were about a dozen or so third-rate "hits", like the newest remake of Alphaville's "Forever Young", which they played only once.
So that makes a total of about 20-25 songs which they play all day on that station, probably the top 25 of this weeks charts, the higher up, the more often.
For a guy like me this is reason enough to take the next available shotgun and blast the radio into the next world.
Unfortunately they don't sell guns at the supermarket.
This time: "The Hits".
On "The Hits" they exclusively play "hits".
These so called "hits" are 99% terrible shit-songs that maybe 12 year olds like, but only because of peer pressure. Nevertheless today I suffered through it and listened closely for about 4 hours: from 9 AM until about 1 PM. In these 4 hours I found out:
They played Lady Gaga for a total of 6 times, alternating between "Telephone" and "Alejandro". That means a Lady Gaga song every 40 minutes. Further I've made a list of 11 other crappy songs which were played at least 2, some of them 3 or 4 times. That means every hour, every 90 minutes, every 2 hours. And then there were about a dozen or so third-rate "hits", like the newest remake of Alphaville's "Forever Young", which they played only once.
So that makes a total of about 20-25 songs which they play all day on that station, probably the top 25 of this weeks charts, the higher up, the more often.
For a guy like me this is reason enough to take the next available shotgun and blast the radio into the next world.
Unfortunately they don't sell guns at the supermarket.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Day Off
Today I had a day off. Days off are always good for cooking things that need a little more time. So I made:
Eight Mini Calzones With Spinach & Feta,
served with fresh salad.
Here's how:
First you need a nice yeast dough. I make mine with about 600g of flour (half white, half whole wheat), a splash of oil, 1 egg and some soy milk). Once it had risen it looked like this:
While the dough was rising I prepared my other ingredients: 2 green and 1 red pepper, a can of pineapple tidbits, fresh mushrooms, spinach (I used frozen, but it works well with fresh spinach, too), olives and pizza sauce (I make mine with a small can of tomato paste, 1 big onion, some garlic and lots of salt, pepper and italian seasoning).
You may notice there's no feta cheese, that is because we live in BF. Feta just wasn't available at the store, so I decided to go without (I'm not the person who lets some feta decide what to cook).
The next step is to divide and shape the dough to 8 small balls.
The nice thing about yeast dough is that it doesn't stop rising. So I waited a bit before rolling it flat. I played videogames for an hour. That was fun, I actually stole a virtual subway train.
Then it was time to add the other ingredients, to fold it over and to place it on a greased pizza pan, like this:
Well, and then I did the same thing 7 times more:
The later ones usually have a tendency to have less stuff in them, because I often put too much into the first few. In the end I used up everything and the workspace was in need of a clean up. All this dough-on-flour-rolling is always such a messy business.
I cleaned it all up and did dishes, after that I quickly threw together this little salad.
In the meantime my calzones had risen quite a bit more...
...so I wrapped half of them in plastic wrap and put them in the freezer. We are not 8 people after all, it'll take us two days alone to eat 4 of them.
One pan went into the freezer, the other into the oven (about 25 minutes at 375), and then it was time for supper. My wife's verdict: Great! Awesome! Delicious!
Eight Mini Calzones With Spinach & Feta,
served with fresh salad.
Here's how:
First you need a nice yeast dough. I make mine with about 600g of flour (half white, half whole wheat), a splash of oil, 1 egg and some soy milk). Once it had risen it looked like this:
While the dough was rising I prepared my other ingredients: 2 green and 1 red pepper, a can of pineapple tidbits, fresh mushrooms, spinach (I used frozen, but it works well with fresh spinach, too), olives and pizza sauce (I make mine with a small can of tomato paste, 1 big onion, some garlic and lots of salt, pepper and italian seasoning).
You may notice there's no feta cheese, that is because we live in BF. Feta just wasn't available at the store, so I decided to go without (I'm not the person who lets some feta decide what to cook).
The next step is to divide and shape the dough to 8 small balls.
The nice thing about yeast dough is that it doesn't stop rising. So I waited a bit before rolling it flat. I played videogames for an hour. That was fun, I actually stole a virtual subway train.
Then it was time to add the other ingredients, to fold it over and to place it on a greased pizza pan, like this:
Well, and then I did the same thing 7 times more:
The later ones usually have a tendency to have less stuff in them, because I often put too much into the first few. In the end I used up everything and the workspace was in need of a clean up. All this dough-on-flour-rolling is always such a messy business.
I cleaned it all up and did dishes, after that I quickly threw together this little salad.
In the meantime my calzones had risen quite a bit more...
...so I wrapped half of them in plastic wrap and put them in the freezer. We are not 8 people after all, it'll take us two days alone to eat 4 of them.
One pan went into the freezer, the other into the oven (about 25 minutes at 375), and then it was time for supper. My wife's verdict: Great! Awesome! Delicious!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Routine & Country
The internet was down this morning, which disrupted my morning routine. I like my routines. I am helpless if I can't follow my routines. Routinewise this morning was terrible. First my alarm didn't go off. So I am laying there in bed, waiting for the alarm to go off, and it doesn't. Very bad. When I finally realize what's going on, I'm 13 minutes late. Imagine that, 13 minutes! Minor disruptions like this cause major disruptions later, like preparing breakfast in a hurry, which could lead to mistakes, which could lead to decreased breakfast pleasure... And then no internet! I had to spend my routine 30 internet-minutes, which are usually filled with email-checking, chess-move-making and news-scanning, on the couch, doing nothing but staring at the wall.
I like routines.
Example: Morning routine:
7:10 AM: Alarm goes off. Time to get up. Time to get dressed.
7:15-7:35 AM: Prepare breakfast: Boil egg, cook oatmeal, set table, make tea, turn on computer and radio etc.
7:35-8:05 AM: Breakfast. Have conversation with wife.
8:05-8:10 AM: Clear table etc.
8:10-8:40 AM: Internet time.
8:40-8:45 AM: Put on work clothes.
8:45 AM: Go to work.
Oh, work: Today I come to work and someone has set the radio station to the "The Highway". That's a station which exclusively plays NEW-Country. Imagine a small town, with an old hound... I'm a little more country than that. But the guy sings it a little weird, I guess because he's soooo country he puts a lot of emphasis on the word country, so it sounds more like I'm a little more CUNT-ry than that. Or this other guy who sings about working on his truck and seeing how fast cars can go, because that's how country boys roll. And his puts in this yodel-sound, which I believe is a characteristic part of the genre, whenever an oh-sound is sung, they yoooodel it out, even carrying it over to the next word, like that's hooo-yodel-ow coooou-yodel-ntry boys roll; not unlike that weird voice-altering sound effect made popular by for example Cher.
Anyway, new country is a genre designed for a very small and special group of people, basically truck-driving, mullet-sporting rednecks, who like to drink. At least that's how the singers describe themselves, for example through singing lines that tell us about liking rain, because it's water, and water makes corn grow, and corn makes whisky, and whisky makes his babe a little frisky.
Lines like this make me barf into my shoes.
If they only played some old country, too, nice story-telling country music, like that song about Joe and his truck, and Joe helps out this woman who has a flat tire, but Joe doesn't accept money for his help, even though he could use it to fix his roof: and the woman drives on and stops at a roadhouse to have a meal, served by a very friendly waitress, so the woman gives all that money Joe hadn't taken to the waitress as a tip, and in the end it turns out the waitress is Joe's wife and they can fix their roof now, because what goes around comes around.
I like nice stories like this, but all these new-country-fuckers do is sing about owning trucks and drinking beer and living in suburbia and going to church, cliché after cliché after cliché, and while listening all you can do is imagine them performing on stage being all happy for a crowd that's identifying with every word they say, grinning stupidly but proudly, and everybody is jumping up and down celebrating their own simplicity; and that thought usually frightens me, I have to shake it off like a bad dream, the mere idea that these people one day stand up and overrun the country and rule and turn us all into one happy brainwashed new-country crowd.
Shudder. Barf. Shudder.
At noon I couldn't take it anymore and I went to the office and changed the station to "Classic Vinyl". Classic rock all day. I love CCR.
I like routines.
Example: Morning routine:
7:10 AM: Alarm goes off. Time to get up. Time to get dressed.
7:15-7:35 AM: Prepare breakfast: Boil egg, cook oatmeal, set table, make tea, turn on computer and radio etc.
7:35-8:05 AM: Breakfast. Have conversation with wife.
8:05-8:10 AM: Clear table etc.
8:10-8:40 AM: Internet time.
8:40-8:45 AM: Put on work clothes.
8:45 AM: Go to work.
Oh, work: Today I come to work and someone has set the radio station to the "The Highway". That's a station which exclusively plays NEW-Country. Imagine a small town, with an old hound... I'm a little more country than that. But the guy sings it a little weird, I guess because he's soooo country he puts a lot of emphasis on the word country, so it sounds more like I'm a little more CUNT-ry than that. Or this other guy who sings about working on his truck and seeing how fast cars can go, because that's how country boys roll. And his puts in this yodel-sound, which I believe is a characteristic part of the genre, whenever an oh-sound is sung, they yoooodel it out, even carrying it over to the next word, like that's hooo-yodel-ow coooou-yodel-ntry boys roll; not unlike that weird voice-altering sound effect made popular by for example Cher.
Anyway, new country is a genre designed for a very small and special group of people, basically truck-driving, mullet-sporting rednecks, who like to drink. At least that's how the singers describe themselves, for example through singing lines that tell us about liking rain, because it's water, and water makes corn grow, and corn makes whisky, and whisky makes his babe a little frisky.
Lines like this make me barf into my shoes.
If they only played some old country, too, nice story-telling country music, like that song about Joe and his truck, and Joe helps out this woman who has a flat tire, but Joe doesn't accept money for his help, even though he could use it to fix his roof: and the woman drives on and stops at a roadhouse to have a meal, served by a very friendly waitress, so the woman gives all that money Joe hadn't taken to the waitress as a tip, and in the end it turns out the waitress is Joe's wife and they can fix their roof now, because what goes around comes around.
I like nice stories like this, but all these new-country-fuckers do is sing about owning trucks and drinking beer and living in suburbia and going to church, cliché after cliché after cliché, and while listening all you can do is imagine them performing on stage being all happy for a crowd that's identifying with every word they say, grinning stupidly but proudly, and everybody is jumping up and down celebrating their own simplicity; and that thought usually frightens me, I have to shake it off like a bad dream, the mere idea that these people one day stand up and overrun the country and rule and turn us all into one happy brainwashed new-country crowd.
Shudder. Barf. Shudder.
At noon I couldn't take it anymore and I went to the office and changed the station to "Classic Vinyl". Classic rock all day. I love CCR.
Monday, June 14, 2010
All Dressed
Last weekend I bought 2 bags of potato chips, (this week's sale: 2 for 5), one bag BBQ flavour, which tasted as expected and alright, one bag, and I don't know which devil was riding me (as they say in Germany), flavoured "all dressed". That was not one of my better decisions, because all dressed really tastes like all flavours mixed together: vinegary, sour, bbq, paprika, cream cheese and whatnot, short: like shit. Seriously. With every chip you eat, you think: oh yes, with the next chip I'm gonna taste the full load of barbecue flavour, boy, I am looking forward to that, but then you eat the next chip and it's like: eeeeh, fuck off vinegar, fuck off cream cheese! Every single chip promises you a singular flavour fest, and every single chip breaks that promise, so you have to keep eating. The perfect get-fat-fast-food! Fuck it!
There are so many weird potato chip flavours in this country; buying a bag of chips becomes an act of science and takes forever, anyway. At least this time it brought usable results: BBQ flavour is ok, all dressed sucks monkey balls.
Do not buy that shit.
I bought some fishing stuff today, you know, hook, line, sinker... Soon I will go fishing again.
And: Today I used up the old bran flakes crumbs to make Schnitzel. Very delicious.
There are so many weird potato chip flavours in this country; buying a bag of chips becomes an act of science and takes forever, anyway. At least this time it brought usable results: BBQ flavour is ok, all dressed sucks monkey balls.
Do not buy that shit.
I bought some fishing stuff today, you know, hook, line, sinker... Soon I will go fishing again.
And: Today I used up the old bran flakes crumbs to make Schnitzel. Very delicious.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Sport Events
Whee, what fun!
Today I watched the soccer game Germany VS Australia, live. I'm very happy that they actually broadcast it here. Watching it reminded me a lot of similar matches and public viewings, outdoors or with 25 people and tv-screens crammed in a kitchen, with beer, beer, beer and cigarettes, and lot's of yelling: Run, ruuuuuuuuun! I didn't have beer today, but I yelled my part, and the fact that the Australians were (commentator's quote) punished by the Germans 4:0 made for a very fun afternoon.
They also showed the Formula One Grand Prix at a bearable time today, so I saw that, too! MSC didn't get much, though. Brumm Brumm Brumm.
Today I watched the soccer game Germany VS Australia, live. I'm very happy that they actually broadcast it here. Watching it reminded me a lot of similar matches and public viewings, outdoors or with 25 people and tv-screens crammed in a kitchen, with beer, beer, beer and cigarettes, and lot's of yelling: Run, ruuuuuuuuun! I didn't have beer today, but I yelled my part, and the fact that the Australians were (commentator's quote) punished by the Germans 4:0 made for a very fun afternoon.
They also showed the Formula One Grand Prix at a bearable time today, so I saw that, too! MSC didn't get much, though. Brumm Brumm Brumm.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Being A Salesperson
The supermarket I work at has its annual supersale days this week. That means whole fuckloads of extra furniture and other bulky merchandise was shipped in, and now people can buy it all, and even with the money they don't have. And that is exactly what they do. If they get one and a half grand of credit, they use it all, even if they only need that 500 buck tv, why not also buy a trampoline, a bed frame and a lawnmower, just because they can?
The sale oriented salesperson of course will never remind them of the fuckloads of interest they're paying, the salesperson will of course encourage them to spend that last remaining 50 bucks for a dvd player. And because for most people all these credit, interest and whatnot things are probably just numbers somewhere in a system that doesn't really have anything to with real life, they just get all these new and shiny things, because all it costs them is a signature.
Thoughts like that go through my head when I'm patiently helping a costumer spending all the money he's borrowing most optimally to the last penny. I don't act on it though, selling the stuff is my job after all, and why would I interfere when everybody is responsible for themselves. It would be really out of place in my position to ask: Are you sure you really need those two recliners, the blu-ray player and the table set? It'd be very appropriate to say: Imagine enjoying your movie on a 46 inch TV, like that one over there, and wouldn't you agree it should have its home on a brand new tv stand.
It feels so good to look the other way and just do what I am told. I have no business interfering. I am just assuming here, for all I know all those people do have that kind of money and they do need all that cool stuff, and they full well know what they're doing; this is bf-nowhere after all and here it can be kind of hard to get your hands on a new sofa combo. Scientific research has proved: Buying stuff makes people happy.
Ah, happiness. Blissful ignorance.
Are you having fun? Yes, mein Führer.
The sale oriented salesperson of course will never remind them of the fuckloads of interest they're paying, the salesperson will of course encourage them to spend that last remaining 50 bucks for a dvd player. And because for most people all these credit, interest and whatnot things are probably just numbers somewhere in a system that doesn't really have anything to with real life, they just get all these new and shiny things, because all it costs them is a signature.
Thoughts like that go through my head when I'm patiently helping a costumer spending all the money he's borrowing most optimally to the last penny. I don't act on it though, selling the stuff is my job after all, and why would I interfere when everybody is responsible for themselves. It would be really out of place in my position to ask: Are you sure you really need those two recliners, the blu-ray player and the table set? It'd be very appropriate to say: Imagine enjoying your movie on a 46 inch TV, like that one over there, and wouldn't you agree it should have its home on a brand new tv stand.
It feels so good to look the other way and just do what I am told. I have no business interfering. I am just assuming here, for all I know all those people do have that kind of money and they do need all that cool stuff, and they full well know what they're doing; this is bf-nowhere after all and here it can be kind of hard to get your hands on a new sofa combo. Scientific research has proved: Buying stuff makes people happy.
Ah, happiness. Blissful ignorance.
Are you having fun? Yes, mein Führer.
Monday, June 7, 2010
This Is A Test
Good evening,
this is a test post, just to see if this email-posting works.
You might also note that I changed the commenting settings. All this being embedded shit has been getting on my nerves anyway, so now you comment on a new page, with the post on the left, the comment and all the identity crap on the right, very unconfusing and IMHO much nicer.
I wish you a merry June 8th.
this is a test post, just to see if this email-posting works.
You might also note that I changed the commenting settings. All this being embedded shit has been getting on my nerves anyway, so now you comment on a new page, with the post on the left, the comment and all the identity crap on the right, very unconfusing and IMHO much nicer.
I wish you a merry June 8th.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Right Thing
I hope I did the right thing today, then again: I know I did. But I don't want to be the person who is interfering. I don't want to cross a line. I hope I didn't. At the same time I don't want to just sit back and watch and let things happen. That's what a lot of Germans did once, and it didn't turn out so well (sorry, couldn't resist).
I hate doubting my actions for no good reason.
Really, I hope this is gonna lead to something.
I hate doubting my actions for no good reason.
Really, I hope this is gonna lead to something.
Friday, June 4, 2010
The 80's
I always hated 80's music.
But the truth is: I love 80's music. I know that now.
Today someone changed the radio station in the store from "The Pulse" to "70's on 7". The former sucks big time, they play the same shit-hit-songs all over again every hour. It is quarter after one and I'm a little drunk and I neeeed you nooooow.... or I aaaaalways tuuuurn the car around... or According to him! I am beautiful, magical.... Barf. I am probably the only one in the store who even notices, because on the floor the radio is merely background noise, with all the action going on nobody even really hears it. But I work in the marking behind a closed door by myself. I sit directly below the speakers. I notice, and I hate "The Pulse".
So I happily noticed someone changed it to the 70's station (which I sneakily had tried out the day before already; by moving into the office pretending to do something else and then quickly changing the station, hoping they are to busy to immediately notice). I sang along to Bohemian Rhapsody for a while, then I had to go outside and into the warehouse, and when I came back on the floor it happened: Instant happyness came over me. My usual friday afternoon fatigue disappeared. I walked using dance moves. Why?
Because in my absence somebody had not only turned up the music, no, somebody had actually changed it to the 80's station. Eternal Flame was playing! The Bangles!
I love the snares. Nothing like the snares in the late 80's and early 90's.
I instantly remembered GTA Vice City, and how I always enjoyed driving through Vice City in a fast car and running over innocent bystanders while Foreigner's Love Hurts was playing on the in-game radio. Same thing works nowadays with Phil Collins in GTA IV. 80's music makes great car-driving music. Nothing like shooting virtual people to an 80's ballad.
10 years ago I used to fuck to that kind of music.
Today I cook to it. (Aside from killing people.)
PS: In GTA San Andreas they had no good 80's station, so I always tuned into the Country station to run people over or shoot motorcycle drivers off their bikes. This way I became a Willie Nelson fan.
But the truth is: I love 80's music. I know that now.
Today someone changed the radio station in the store from "The Pulse" to "70's on 7". The former sucks big time, they play the same shit-hit-songs all over again every hour. It is quarter after one and I'm a little drunk and I neeeed you nooooow.... or I aaaaalways tuuuurn the car around... or According to him! I am beautiful, magical.... Barf. I am probably the only one in the store who even notices, because on the floor the radio is merely background noise, with all the action going on nobody even really hears it. But I work in the marking behind a closed door by myself. I sit directly below the speakers. I notice, and I hate "The Pulse".
So I happily noticed someone changed it to the 70's station (which I sneakily had tried out the day before already; by moving into the office pretending to do something else and then quickly changing the station, hoping they are to busy to immediately notice). I sang along to Bohemian Rhapsody for a while, then I had to go outside and into the warehouse, and when I came back on the floor it happened: Instant happyness came over me. My usual friday afternoon fatigue disappeared. I walked using dance moves. Why?
Because in my absence somebody had not only turned up the music, no, somebody had actually changed it to the 80's station. Eternal Flame was playing! The Bangles!
I love the snares. Nothing like the snares in the late 80's and early 90's.
I instantly remembered GTA Vice City, and how I always enjoyed driving through Vice City in a fast car and running over innocent bystanders while Foreigner's Love Hurts was playing on the in-game radio. Same thing works nowadays with Phil Collins in GTA IV. 80's music makes great car-driving music. Nothing like shooting virtual people to an 80's ballad.
10 years ago I used to fuck to that kind of music.
Today I cook to it. (Aside from killing people.)
PS: In GTA San Andreas they had no good 80's station, so I always tuned into the Country station to run people over or shoot motorcycle drivers off their bikes. This way I became a Willie Nelson fan.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Nochmal Gundermann
"Und wenn der Alte geht, dann kriegste seine Werkzeugtasche, die blanke Schienenzange und die Thermosflasche. Und musst du weinen, dann liebe einen Mann, doch liebe keinen, doch liebe keinen, doch liebe keinen von der Eisenbahn.
Und wenn die Alte geht, dann kriegste ihre Badewanne, die Fingernagelbürste und die Fliederteekanne. Und musst du weinen, dann liebe eine Frau, doch liebe keine, doch liebe keine,doch liebe keine aus'm Tagebau.
Die haben harte Hände..."
I can't get over it. Almost every evening I listen to Gundermann songs these days. In the evening, before bedtime. But after switching off my computer and before I go to bed I read for a while. And because I have finished reading all the books I've brought back from Europe (Neue Vahr Süd, Der kleine Bruder, Der Kindersammler, part 2 of that, Ghost and Soundtrack meiner Kindheit) I am now re-reading Max Frisch: Homo Faber.
Und wenn die Alte geht, dann kriegste ihre Badewanne, die Fingernagelbürste und die Fliederteekanne. Und musst du weinen, dann liebe eine Frau, doch liebe keine, doch liebe keine,doch liebe keine aus'm Tagebau.
Die haben harte Hände..."
I can't get over it. Almost every evening I listen to Gundermann songs these days. In the evening, before bedtime. But after switching off my computer and before I go to bed I read for a while. And because I have finished reading all the books I've brought back from Europe (Neue Vahr Süd, Der kleine Bruder, Der Kindersammler, part 2 of that, Ghost and Soundtrack meiner Kindheit) I am now re-reading Max Frisch: Homo Faber.
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