Monday, August 28, 2006

When all that is left is history, how do you interpret it?

The first time I arrived in Munich, I was 19. It was early evening when I stepped onto the train platform with my best friend, Mark. Carrying heavy backpacks we set out to find a place to stay before the dark night desended onto us. Exiting the train station we were approached by a middle aged German man who asked us in German if we needed a place to stay. Cautiously, in broken German, I said yes. He became excited, speaking frantically in German, saying he had the perfect place and he could drive us there. He motioned to a late model BMW 3.0 CSI. I turned to my travel companion, telling him that the German had offered us a place and he wanted to drive us there.

Hearing my English, the German grew even more excited. He asked in German where we were from. In German, I told him we had come from America. In English, he said "Come with me to my place. I do not stay there, it'll be yours for a small fee for however long you need. First, let me take you out in Munich. Do you like beer?" "Beer? We love beer! Let's go!" We piled into the BMW and were wisked away to an enormous beer garten. Many, many beers were consumed. The German picked up the tab. My only payment to him was to speak only German to him and he would speak only English to us. Fair enough. Hours later he dropped us off at the place we were to stay in. It was dark. I had no idea where I was and I was stinkin' drunk.

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of coffee. At first, I was happy. Then I rolled over to see my best friend passed out on his bed with his clothes still on. There was no way he had made the coffee. I went down the stairs from the loft towards the kitchenette. "Hello?" I said, as I stared at the steaming Krups coffee pot. Next to it were 3 cups, one of them used and still warm. I found a note written in German that I roughly translated to: Hello young Miss and Sir. I came to have coffee with you, but you were still asleep. Drink the coffee, there is a bottle of fresh milk in the cooler. Have a good day. See you tonight. Heinrick. Creepy, double creepy! I ran to our bags that we had left near the kitchen. I was glad to see that they were still locked and seemed undisturbed. Thank God! I poured myself a cup of coffee (with milk) and stepped outside to figure out where I was. On the balcony I looked to see row after row of what looked like housing barracks. They were brightly painted in a neo- hippy style. When I turned towards my right, I saw a huge multi story building that looked oddly familiar.

In my hung over haze, I struggled to identify the building. By my second sip of coffee I instantly realized where I was.... Behind me, the door of the flat opened and my best friend walked out, cup of coffee in hand. "Thanks for making coffee" he said. "I didn't make it", I replied. "Who did?" he asked as he lit a cigarette. "Where the fuck are we? A commune?" "Funny", I said, "I thought the same thing. Does that building look familiar to you? Think back to 11th grade World History class". "No. Should it? Who made this coffee? It is great.", he said as he smoked his cigarette and looked at the high rise. "The German let himself in sometime this morning and made it. He said he wanted to have coffee with us, brought milk and everything. He left a note". My friend, looking alarmed, ran back into the flat. Moments later, he returned looking relieved. "Least our bags are still here", he said. "Where are we? I don't know that building". "We, my friend, are in the Olympic Village circa 1972. That is the dormitory that held the wrestling team from Isreal. They were taken hostage there. Two were killed in that building, the rest were murdered on the tarmac at a military air field. The Germans fucked it all up", I replied. "Okay! This is really disturbing when you are hungover. I don't like this guy letting himself in whenever he wants. I don't care how good this coffee is." he said to me. "Lets get our bags and get the hell out of here".

Our hangovers were still dragging us down. We decided it would be best if we looked for new accomadations first, then come back for our bags. We took the U3 subway line back toward the UBahn station we originally started from the night before. After we located a shoddy youth hostel near the station we went back to the Olympic Village to collect our bags. As I fumbled with the keys at the door, it magically opened with the help of the German who, once again, let himself into the flat. "Guten Tag!", he announced. "Eh, hi", I said in English. "We've come back for our bags". "Nein!" he yelled at me. "This is yours to stay in". "NO!", I said firmly in English. "I don't like the view" I said, pointing to the high rise, "and I don't like you letting yourself in whenever it suits you." Screaming at me in German, most of which was lost on me, he said "This is a nice place, we German's don't talk about old news! I made you coffee, I brought you milk!" We grabbed our belongings and headed for the door. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a Deutsch Mark and set it on the table. "For your fucking milk!", I said as I bolted out the door.

Back at the U3 subway, we began to relax as we took out seats into the subway car. 2 minutes into our ride to the UBahn station a commotion broke out 5 rows up from us. "Shit" I said to my friend as I watched a man punch a woman in the face. He didn't stop there. He began assaulting everyone around him, men, women, and even a small child. We held our backpacks in front of us, uncertain if we would be next. The train pulled into the next stop, everyone ran for the exits. 3 large men grabbed the unstable man and threw him onto the platform and began beating him up. Everyone was screaming and trying to run. Out of nowhere, 4 German police officers arrived, armed with Mac 10 Assault rifles. They broke up the fight by pointing their weapons into the crowd. Lucky for us we didn't make it to the exit of the train car. The doors closed with us still inside and zipped off to the UBahn station. By now, we had had enough of Germany and bought two tickets to France on the night train.

It's been years since I thought about this event. I reluctantly returned to Munich 10 years after this happened. Hubby wanted to go there to tour the BMW factory, which is near the Olympic Village. I took him there and told him this story. I was reminded of it again as we were watching the documentary "One Day In September". "Hey! We've been there!", hubby said. "Yes, I nodded, "Now you understand why I didn't want to return". He laughed at me as he said, "Oh. I thought you were just sick of crazy Germans".

I have since added the movie "Munich" to my Netflix queue. "Munich" is Spielberg's take on the events that followed that horrible day when those hostages were murdered. I can't say that I am looking forward to seeing this movie, nor do I think I will ever return to Munich.

Friday, August 18, 2006

My news, and yes, this is my first time posting twice in one day!

There's going to be another baby in my house around Feb. 28, 2007. Yep, my breeding instincts have once again kicked in. I am 12 1/2 weeks pregnant. I waited to tell you all this news until after I was certain that the baby was truely going to stick around. You see, I am prone to miscarriages and have had my heart ripped out twice after announcing to the world that I was pregnant. My doctor has confirmed that the baby appears strong and healthy, we even got to see it in action via ultrasound. There is a very slim chance of miscarriage at this point, hence my news to you. I wanted to share the ultrasound photo, but the scanner makes it look nearly impossible to even make out that it is a baby. Plus, it is only 2 inches long at the moment and still resembles a blob.

Many thanks to the few bloggers out there who I shared this info with upon finding out. Your secret skills are wonderful. Matter of fact, I did let you all know about my pregnancy in an annonymous comment at Astrisks post about secrets. I still wonder if he had checked his site meter to see that it was me... I'll keep you all informed as I progress, but promise not to write about it ad nauseum.

For Cappy, with love...

My dear friend Cappy has asked us to post an artistic photo that we feel represents our blog persona. I feel that my profile photo is an excellent view into my blog life. I always tell the truth on my blog. In order to do this I hide behind my own words, often censoring myself in hopes of not freaking the crap out of you all. To gain greater insight into my scrambled thinking within my own head, I'll also share with you all the artwork I feel best represents how I most often feel (and most often never show via written word) at any given moment. This piece has already been on my blog once (in May). It is from the book "The Three Incestuous Sisters: An Illustrated Novel" by Audrey Niffenegger.

There you go, Mr. Cappy. I have run out of excuses about not posting very often. That's why I rose to your challenge. I do have some news I am ready to share with you all. Was think of letting it out of the bag today, but maybe next week will be better (just joking Cappy). Perhaps I'll wow you all and do 2 posts in one day! As far as I can remember, I haven't done that before.

Friday, August 11, 2006

My mom says I'll be late to my own funeral...

I was tagged earlier this week by Goddess In The City. I said it would be up this past Wednesday, but as always, I got caught up in some insane drama which had to be worked out. Per usual, I have survived yet another moment of utter bullshit. I'll save the saga for a later time, in which it'll appear subversively on this blog. I still need a bit of time to decompress the 4 years of shit which has been flung in the direction of my family by a large organization. With my middle finger galantly raised to this league of rednecks, I bid you my tag.

10 Years Ago: August 1996
Came to the realization that I was existing in a marriage that had never suited my ideals.

5 Years Ago: August 2001
Just found out I was pregnant with my son.

1 Year Ago: August 2005
Financially not secure. Worried. Bitter towards large organization mentioned above. Frantically trying to remember what my life used to be like when money wasn't an issue.

5 Songs I know all the words to:
"La Tortura"- Shakira (yes, in Spanish)
"Perfect Blue Buildings"- Counting Crows
"Institutionalized"- Suicidal Tendencies
"Numb"- Linkin Park
"Holiday in Cambodia"- Dead Kennedys

5 Snacks:
Ice Cream
DeLux Nuts (not peanuts)
Sour candy

5 Things I would do with $100,000:
Massive down payment for a house in Ann Arbor
Get a new car (haven't had one since 1989).
Get a good education for my kid.
Put some in a retirement fund.
Pay back everyone who helped me out when we were flirting with povery (no thanks to large organization).

5 Places I would run away to:
Mexico (to look for my retirement house)
British Columbia

5 Things I would NEVER wear:
High heels
Scratchy, lacey anything
(for the record, Hubby completed this portion of the tag for me. Perhaps he is trying to tell me something. Oh well.)

5 favorite T.V. shows:
Anderson Cooper 360 (CNN)
(alright! I have a slight crush on him. I don't care if people say he's gay!)
Keeping Up Appearances
No Reservations (Travel Channel)
Tom & Jerry
More news well into the wee hours of the morning (thank hubby again for the news comment)

5 Greatest joys:
My husband
My kid
My best friend Fluffy (Ron)
My blanks (that would be called a blanket to those out of the loop)
My Job (thank you self employment)

5 Favorite toys:
Cell Phone (perfect for a recluse personality)
DVD player (movie theater?!? what's that?)
My blog journal (yeah, the one I use to hand write most of my blog posts)

5 People I am tagging:

Since it took so long for me to post this, I fear the fire has died out on it. If you want to do it, go ahead. (It would be nice to see Fluffy, Zeneric, What, Punk in Suburbia and Cynnie's answers, but I am not officially tagging them)

Thursday, August 03, 2006

"Just don't stand there with that camera! HELP ME!!!" Posted by Picasa
(see post below for explanation of this picture)

Let me introduce myself...

Meow! My name is Sully McBullers. I am the cat of the one who calls herself Camie. This photo is an indignity to my cat persona. Before this photo was taken, I was enjoying my 3 hour nap on MY couch. I was rudely interupted by the boy who shares this flat with me. Camie tells me I am fat, and resemble an aircraft carrier when I sleep on my side. All I know is that while enjoying my slumber, her boy insisted on using me as a platform for his solid wood blocks. Camie found my situation funny. I did not. Look into my eyes! Do I look amused?!? And they wonder why I like to bite.

(This post was originally going to end here....until THIS happened!)

Back to biting.... I finally had some time to myself. They took that little boy away to some science museum. When they returned, the boy was very happy and was playing with this tube thing that glowed green. The boy looked like he really liked this glow thing. He even wagged it in my FACE, saying that it was his new glow stick. I do not like it when he shoves things in my face. He has no respect for me!!

Some time went by and the boy grew tired of this glowing tube and set it down on the floor next to me. Now I had my chance to get that boy back for putting those blocks on me earlier. My teeth are long and sharp, perfect for chewing favorite toys. I sunk my fangs into the tube and.....AAAARRRGGGG!!! MEOW, MEOW, HOWL!!! I shook my head to rid my mouth of this rotten taste, and bits of green spattered onto the carpet. I ran and ran, trying to get away from the taste. Camie noticed this running I was doing. I never run, I am too fat to exert myself in this manner under normal circumstances. "What is wrong with you?" Camie yelled at me. Realizing I needed help, I stopped, looked at her straight on and howled. "Holy shit! The cat is foaming green at the mouth!" she screamed. I tried running again, but this time I was snatched up by the big man hands of Camie's husband. I knew I was in trouble, because he never touches me.

Next thing I know, I am being squeezed tightly. My paws, with my sharp claws, were bound by the man hands. This big man was carrying me into the kitchen, towards the SINK. He crammed my portly body into the sink, aiming my head in the direction of the WATER faucet!! Camie, who I thought loved me, TURNED on the WATER. My entire head, mouth, nose and face was completely saturated!! Had they forgotten that I hate water?!? But...but....hey, my mouth felt better, my taste had returned...the burning and foaming had stopped. They HAD helped me. The big man hands released me, and I ran for cover under their bed. I stayed there for half an hour, then decided I should thank them for their assistance. I rubbed their legs in thanks and returned to MY couch for a much needed rest.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

105 Degrees in the shade

It is too hot here, at the moment. I haven't the energy to do much of anything. I write you all this little explaination because I know you are all thinking I am slagging off on this blog thing. Really, I'm not. I have lots of posts in the draft file, just too lax getting them onto the site. Mind you, I have been visiting and commenting on lots of other blogs... Comments are easier to write than posts at times. So, as my readership dwindles, I find myself retreating back into the cool air conditioning of my bedroom to watch some T.V. and do nothing.