Just a side note:
Whilst working at my school I’ve noticed a few quirks with their English. They tend to learn British English, but pick up a lot of American pronunciation and slang. Normally you can decipher through things, but sometimes it gets a bit 
awkward. One that’s hard to get used to though is the British word for an eraser, which they call a rubber. In America, this is a common term for a condom.
Needless to say I’m very startled everytime students ask the teachers, their peers, or me for a rubber.
What’s that smell?
I had the privilege to fly home for Christmas this year. The only problem is that I hate flying, but I was very very excited to see my family and my girlfriend.
The problem with flying for me is that I get really anxious about being late and not making flights. So, my nerves are on overdrive until I get on the last plane I need to. I literally get up super early and get to the airport about 4 hours before I need to. I’ll then sit down and check and recheck the schedule and scope out the gate only to realize that it won’t open for about two and a half hours. I do it every time. I don’t know why.
So, I got to my first connection in Berlin and of course my plane was delayed about a half hour. This wouldn’t be a problem except that I had a really tight connection in Zurich where my next flight was. The entire flight over to Zurich I was fidgeting around and checking my watch. I think I thoroughly freaked out anyone who was sitting near me. Once we landed I shoved off the plane as fast as I could trying to avoid the old people and the wheelchairs, but there may have been a few accidental bumps.
I made it to my next gate just in time and started to let my nerves calm down. Now the next worse thing about traveling is finding out who you’re sitting next to and who’s sitting around you. I got to the front of the line and found my seat. It wasn’t a bad seat, but it wasn’t great. It wasn’t next to the bathroom door and was in the aisle. That’s about all one can wish for. I then saw the guy who was sitting next to me. He seemed ok and sat down reading a magazine for a while. The people around me all seemed to be alright too. I thought it was going to be an easy eight hour flight. Little did I know…
The next thing that happened was that one of the guys to the back left of me was asked to move his seat to let a lady and her baby sit there for whatever reason. I’m not sure why, but I think it was because it was near the bathroom. I don’t mind kids on flights. Some people can’t stand it, but about an hour into the flight I heard some ruffling and some gasps. I turned around and gaped in horror. It took me a minute to process, but the girl, who had been crying for the past few minutes, had just crapped all over he mother and the floor. For whatever reason, her mother thought it would be a good time to test out her daughters ability not to wear a diaper. Clearly, she wasn’t ready.She then proceeded to take the kid into the aisle and change her pooped covered clothes for everyone to see. The smell needn’t be described, but you can imagine. This was slowly turning into a nightmare. The flight crew came about 10 minutes later and sprayed something all over the lady and the floor and then went on serving out meals.
About two hours later, I had just blanked out the smell and the images from before as best as I could when I heard a faint ‘meow’. Now this really confused me. I’ve never seen a live animal on the plane before. The man next to me then said that he had his cat with him. I prodded some more and he showed me its passport and said he was bringing it back home with him and that it was under his seat. Very strange. I then wondered how a cat would be able to control itself on a plane for eight hours. This was a legitimate thought. About ten minutes after I thought that, I heard a quick meow, then some purring, and then smelled cat pee.
This mixed with the child’s accident was almost unbearrable and festered for the next five hours. When we landed the people around me were bleary eyed and looking violent. As soon as the seatbelt sign went off, people shoved and pushed as quickly as they could to get away from the sess pool. I pushed passed the poo covered lady and stepped on the cat’s tail by accident and fell out of the plane. We had arrived on time, but I am forever traumitized. I will let you know how the respond to my letter of complaint.
Khaki-less
While being lazy and putting off my laundry for far longer than I should, I realized something. The Germans don’t wear khaki pants.
I was forced to wear some slacks after using up all my jeans and suddenly noticed a few random people staring at me as if I had a tumor growing out of my ass. I couldn’t figure out why. Then for whatever reason I looked around and slowly
came to realize why I had become a pariah.
About 70% of the people were wearing Jeans.
20% were wearing black pants
9% were wearing some sort of green pants
And then there was me and the old crazy guy who were sporting the khakis. I felt out of place. As if I had walked into town with no pants on. Now, I’m not one for fasion and I wouldn’t really care, but it’s hard to explain the stares people were giving me.
So, please take note, Khakis are a no go in Deutschland.
An Ode to Nutella
Yeah, I see you staring at me across the kitchen.
Why can’t I look away? 
I know I shouldn’t. But you’re just too good.
Chocolate and hazelnut? What genius thought of that?
I must resist the urge.
But maybe just one bite…
2 Hours Later:
Roommates come back to the apartment and see a suspicious brown substance smeared upon the walls and a strong chocolate odor. They let out a small gasp of horror and dash to their bedrooms to see if some wild animal has entered the apartment and eaten the smelly cheese in the kitchen causing some violent stomach problems.
Instead, they find me happily rocking back and forth in the corner in a dream-like state painting dinosaurs on the wall with nutella. They at first don’t know how to react, but my gentle singing snaps them back to reality.
They pull me away and dump me in the bathtub, throw away the nutella, and swear never to speak of this event ever again.
Apparently, I get violent when they try to take the nutella jar from me and then start crying like a baby.
Moral of the Story:
Nutella is a dangerous drug kids. After just one use, you may wake up in a bath tub not knowing where you’ve been and having to explain why you bit your roommates and attacked them with a spoon. Stay away from it; no matter how great it may seem at the time.
An Open Letter to the Stink Man
Dear Man on the Tram,
Yesterday, I was rushing out to meet up with a few Americans for a Thanksgiving meal. I entered the tram and dozed-off into a day dream filled with turkey, pumpkins, and crazy pilgrims. I could almost smell the cornbread.
Unfortunately for me, you decided to get on the same tram I was on. I wouldn’t have made anything of it and I was happily staring at the ceiling and drooling over the thought of mashed potatoes when my nose was suddenly, and rudely I must say, interrupted.
Instead of smelling the faint hint of garlic mashed potatoes, something else wacked me back to reality. I looked over in horror as you were slowly heading toward my direction. There were about 50 seats free on the tram and you decided to walk across the tram to sit next to me.
The smell only got stronger as you approached and I don’t know how the other passengers didn’t notice your cruel oder. It smelled something like old cabbage wrapped in a fat child’s gym clothes. And no, the fact that you doused yourself in pure rubbing alcohol didn’t change the fact that you probably hadn’t showered since I first arrived in Germany.
You then coughed up something awful and probably alive, gave me a wink, and sat down next to me. I hugged the food I had made trying to protect it from contamination, but I know it was a futile endeavor. I then tried to breath out of my mouth to try and block the smell. This proved to be a bad decision because your musk had evolved a subtle trash-like taste to it.
I yelped, and tried holding my breath. Every two minutes or so I was forced to breath and gasped. The people around had finally realized where the smell was coming from and for whatever reason had thought the smell was emanating from me, not the trash man sitting next to me.
When my stop finally arrived, you refused to let me out into the isle. I was forced to clamber over the seats and run with my eyes watering off the train.
Please sir, for the good of mankind, bath yourself.
Grocery Shopping
Everything here is closed on Sunday. It’s quite a pain in the ass, especially when I do my grocery shopping every third day. I don’t like loading up with too much stuff because I have to take it on the tram and it gets cumbersome and just looks awkward. 
No matter what I do I always forget about the Sunday rule; this forces me to abandon my second rule, which is don’t grocery shop when you’re hungry. I wake up on Monday after eating some strange combination of wurst, old fruit, and granola and set out on my quest.
German grocery stores are much like they are in the states, but with a much better selection of cheese, bread, and meats. Coincidentally, these are things I love. I’ll horde as much of the stuff as my arms will allow and make my way toward the register.
In Germany, for some reason, there is a general lack of trust when it comes to waiting in line. People first shoot elbows and if you aren’t paying attention they’ll sneak in front of you as if nothing happened. They all look around at everyone with looks of hate and distrust. Before I know it, I’m naturally acting on the defensive. I hug my armful of meat, cheese, and bread as close to me as I can and glare at the little old lady standing next to me. I just know she’s trying to take my place in line. Once I get to the conveyor belt I put my food down nervously.
This is where Germans get really crazy. They take the dividers and literally throw it between your food and theirs – even if there’s about 3 feet between the two piles. I return the favor the the helpless person behind me, who snaps out of their frantic distrustful searching and glares at me, but acknowledges the ritual at the same time with a wry and out of place smile.
Once I reach the cashier they give me a stressed look and ask for my money. They refuse any form of card payment and the Euro is prone to coin usage. So, I fumble through my wallet while the person behind me starts swearing along with the cashier. I find the perfect amount of change, and with a look of satisfaction and pride, I hand it to the evil register lady. She crumples up the reciept and throws it in my direction. I take my meats, cheeses, and breads and head on my way very confused about the strange cultural maze I just navigated.
Monday’s Links
Cotton Picking Map of the South and who voted republican in the last election
10 creepiest skittle commercials of all time
Lost Beatles track to be released
annnnnd some Japanese vending machines
Uhh… This guy should be calling everyone up and saying ‘I told you so’
Mother of God Japanese Hornets lay the smack down:
How not to act or screen write:
Bears: A legitimate fear
For some reason, my school is obsessed with Alaska. It’s the state they choose to learn every obscure detail about. I can’t explain why, but there is some strange supernatural connection between them and learning about Alaska. 
One of my teachers asked me to give a presentation on the state for the fourth time, and I was getting a bit bored with it. So, I tried to locate some other stuff to say about it besides that it was huge, had a small population, and was cold and dark a lot. I decided to focus on some nature.
I’ve visited Alaska once before and it really is a beautiful place, but it is not one you want to get lost in. The only reason for that is the bear population. I remember going on a hike and my friend’s dad putting his hand over a huge pile of crap to see if it was warm. That way if it was we would know if the bear was anywhere near us and would rip our guts out. It wasn’t but he still proceeded to scream, “Bear!” as if it would scare off any 2,000 pound killing machine.
I decided to talk about nature, but in doing so realized that I am terribly affraid of these oversized killing machines. The class looked at me as I tried to explain the different way a bear could tear you apart and how hopeless an escape would be.
“Yes, they can climb trees and eat you”
“They don’t like mace, but you can try anyway”
“Go into the fetal possition and hope it plays with you for a while and gets bored”
These are legitiate pieces of advice that have been given to me. The students laughed, but I was serious. I decided to change the subject to a slightly scarrier topic, Sarah Palin, who is also from Alaska. They weren’t listening to me concerns about that either.
The Noise!
I’ve taken to commuting very early in the morning from Halle to my school. The trip is an ideal opportunity to get some reading done, or just zone out and think. I was actually looking forward to it a bit. I could just sit on the train go into zombie-mode and only worry if the odd passenger caught me drooling again. 
I’ve realized I’m cursed though. Maybe it’s just my heightened annoyance in the early morning or after working, but I’m pretty sure that every annoying and loud person in Germany flocks to the nearest seat they can find as soon as I sit down. You think I might be over-exaggerating, but I’m not. Every time I get on a train the car is completely empty. I set up camp and start to drool, read, or some combination of both, and just when I get comfortable I hear the train doors open (”pshhhhhht”) and know my fate is sealed.
Usually, I’ll get the kids who haven’t learned to control their volume yet. They’ll sit next to me and shout in my general direction to make sure I hear them. I’ll look up to acknowledge them and they’ll shoot me a death look and then make fun of my ‘not so hip’ outfit. I’ll cry one tear and then go back and try to read some more.
On the extra lucky days I’ll get a cougher. This person has become infected with some horrible virus, but refuses to acknowledge it. They’ll sneak up behind slowly and I won’t notice them until they hack up half their lung all over me. They’ll pause and recover, and the process repeats itself every five minutes.
I’m looking for that blissful train ride that I keep imagining in my head, but it has yet to appear. I’ll let you know if this myth ever comes to fruition.
Speeches, Videos, and Articles Worth Watching and Reading. How We Got Here.
Dredd Scott v. Stanford Supreme Court Case. Slave sues for his freedom.
Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address
Abraham Lincoln’s Assassination
The thirteenth amendment abolishing slavery after the civil war
The fourteenth amendment gives rights to former slaves. Over rules Dredd Scott
The fifteenth amendment allows people to vote regardless of their race.
List of some Jim Crow Laws intended to segregate and keep minorities from voting
Plessy v. Ferguson Delivers ‘Separate But Equal Clause’
1923 Women gain the right to vote
Brown v. Board of Education Repeals Plessy v. Ferguson. Also has famous ‘at all deliberate speed clause’
Eisenhower orders troops to Little Rock to allow students to go to school
Rosa Parks Refuses to Give up her seat on the bus
Kennedy Addresses Civil Rights
Martin Luther King’s reaction
Martin Luther King Jr. ‘I have a dream’ speech:
Martin Luther King’s Assassination
Robert F. Kennedy on Martin Luther King’s death
Robert F. Kennedy’s Assassination
Lyndon B. Johnson On Voting Rights Act
Controversial Affirmative Action Cases
McCain’s Concession Speech. Well done and tasteful
Obama’s Victory Speech
