Woehoeee!!!!
The bike is everything I hoped for!! its wonderful! I cant tell you how great it is to be tearing down the highway! How brilliant it is to just let her go & accelerate away from everything. How wonderful she sounds (the slow, deep & heavy bop-bop-bop of a BMW boxer engine). And how nice it is to be able to jump on the bike & go wherever!

Unfortunaltely the weather was awfull this weekend, but I didnt let that stop me. Visited loads of friends, got soaked, visited more friends, got even more soaked & did shopping (ok, I admit, not the most practial thing to do on a motorbike, but I'll take any excuse to ride now ;-) ).
Its a thing of beauty... Lots of power at low revs, which is great for acceleration. pleanty of speed to tear down the highway with (max I took it to so far, 160 kph). And the girl says its comfortable on the back. A fiend gave me some pointers about riding with a pretty lady on the back.
"The trick is" he said, "to first accelarate hard. That way she'll cuddle you properly."
"Than, when you have a bit of speed, squeese your brakes once, short but hard. Now she's slid up against your back, and you can enjoy the feeling the rest of the ride..."
Sounds like good advice, I'll have to try that soon...

Anyway, here's a picture. And now back to work for me!

Excited...

I feel jittery as a schoolgirl... (although Id prefer to feel up a jittery schoolgirl of course! But no such luck today ;-) )
Its friday (a good reason to feel jittery in itself) october 3rd 2008. Im 32 years old, and close to the fullfilment of a boyhood dream (no, im not refering to the schoolgirls again)...

Tomorrow I'm buying my first motorbike!!

After 3 months of lessons, saving money (quite expensive lessons...), of being called obsessed by my friends (they did have a point to be quite honest), of looking and drooling at bikes, of listning to good advice while I wanted to be riding instead. Tomorrow it will finally happen. Me gonna become a biker, and more importantly, I'll finally be less reliant on the bloody trains...

Boots -- Check!
Suit -- Check!
Helmet -- Check!
Gloves -- Check!
Cool glasses -- Check! (these were a present from my darling little girl, isnt she sweet?)
Beard -- Check! (hey, realism counts for something)

Now all I need is asphalt (insert crooked bikersmile here).
Oh and some sunshine would be nice, but alas, no such luck this weekend. 90% chance of rain rain rain... never mind, Im going to have a great time anyway ;-)

The English Language

LEGAL NOTICE: most of what is written in this email is a serious affront to human sanity. It should by no means be taken seriously, imbibed or spread on toast (unless it has been diluted in a large bucket of fish first).

This was writen as a mail to my foreign girlfriend. She sometimes has a bit of trouble with the complexities of the lovely (if not always practical) English language.

Baby, Darling, Lover...
Sometimes I tell you that you make confusing mistakes in English. Sometimes these lead to misunderstandings between us, which can on occasion lead to arguements, which in turn can sometimes turn nasty (before we realise that its a missunderstanding).
But, when I correct you, I am not trying to tell you that your stupid (when I actually tell you you're stupid, than I am trying to tell you that you're stupid). When I explain to you that the way you said something is very offensive in English, even if you didn't mean it in an offensive way, I'm not accusing you of being callous or spiteful.
You see, English is a very difficult language. Sometimes native English speakers make English mistakes too, really they do! Of course we all know that Americans are a good example of the difficulties of speaking proper English, as they on average make one critical language mistake each word that they pronounce. So compared to them, your English is in fact very good!
Australians have avoided the whole affair by developing such an outrageously strong accent that the rest of the English speaking world cannot understand them at all, and therefore cannot be offended by the gross grammatical and contextual errors that they may (or may not) be making. Certain countries like, for instance, Jamaica, have adopted a very creative approach to dealing with the tremendous difficulties of this complex language. They have introduced making deliberate mistakes as a badge of honour. An individual making these deliberate mistakes shows he is part of a community and that he conforms to its rules. Additionally (/importantly) making these deliberate mistakes also camouflages the abundance of accidental mistakes they make. This method of coping with the traumatising effects of the English language is now known as "being cool".
It is therefore gratifying to know that at least one country in the world has the ability and the drive to do this wonderful language justice. To correctly apply the rules and conventions which they themselves have created.
Am am of course speaking of the English (note, this does not include the Scottish, Welsh & Northern Irish. What they to to the English language can best be described as "a full frontal attack").

Although... Do even the English actually know how to properly use the English language?
See: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/7591905.stm



Even Tesco's??? (why am I now thinking "Et Tu Brute?" ;-) )

sunny outside...

Here I am, a busy little drone at my desk. Outside the window I can see its gorgeous weather, but there are only so many cigarette breaks you can have in one day before your boss gets on your ass about it. Besides, being outside for those 5 quick, smoky minutes just makes me less motivated to get back to work.
I hope the weekend will be nice, but right now the weather forecast says it will rain. Damn Dutch weather: The few good days of the year always seem to be during office hours, while the weekends are seriously crappy all through the summer... If there is a God, this is proof that (s)he's an evil & sarcastic bitch/bastard (cross out the option which least suits your level of feminism / traditionalism).

It reminds me of situation a while ago, when I was still a student. I was living in a student house with lots of people from all over the world. Amongst the varied assortment of people living there, there were two French girls; Anne and Stephanie.
Anne was the pretty one, in the way that only French girls can be. You know, French girls can have that "je ne sais qua", that always perfect look. The kitchen could look like a trafic accident, the garbage could be piled up to the ceiling (god, the smell haunts me to this very day...) the walls covered with lude comments, posters of half-naked babes and most of yesterdays dinner (the Russian guy had cooked, which turned out to be a good reason for a food fight :P ) but she would still look as if she'd just walked in from a highclass fashion shoot. I had a few seriously embarrassing moments here and there, when my male anatomy decided it was going to enthusiastically cheer her arrival by pitching a tent in front of all my housemates. (Sausage!!)
Stephanie was the opposite. She was the Hobo-type. She was the cool, different, dreadlocked, passionate and lots of laughs type. The kind of style girls generally adopt when they are a bit insecure & want to be attractive in a non-standard way (which by now has become the standard way of trying to cover up insecurity. Talk about irony, eh?!). She never gave me “tent-pitching-problems”, but I had alot of nice evenings with her, laughing & chatting. I really liked having them both around in their very own and different ways.

Anyway, the moment I was thinking about was one afternoon when I arrived home from a lecture (yes, I did attend a few, not too many though ;-) ), on one of those typical grey & dreary afternoons, of a typical grey and dreary week of a grey and dreary Dutch summer. It had started drizzling a few days before and so far it wasn’t showing any signs of stopping any time soon. Having lived in Holland all my life, I hardly noticed it anymore. Just shake your head whenever you enter a dry place (ignoring the shouts of everyone around you as stoically as you had earlier ignored the rain itself) and make sure you have your telephone in a dry place. Stick to these simple rules & you'll live. Anne and Stephanie weren’t so well versed in the subtle art of surviving a Dutch summer, and by now I think it was getting to them...
I entered the kitchen at my usual energetic pace, noticed the two French belles standing looking out of the window, called a cheerful "Hey, Hello!!" in their direction, whilst reminding myself not to shake myself dry too close to them. Wondering what was attracting their attention outside, and curious as I am, I quickly joined them at the window.
A few minutes passed without a word... (I’m really bad at that btw, I get this Urge to say something in silences, this nervous, jittery feeling that I simply must say something. Which usually ends up in me loudly pronouncing something totally inappropriate, and imediately wishing Id stuck my foot in my mouth the moment I opened it)
“Eehhmm… what are you looking at?” I asked carefully after a few minutes of the silence which had fallen after my slightly-too-enthusiastic greeting.

“For Gods sake, Does it ever stop raining in this damn country?” Anne and Stephanie asked in one voice.

They didnt even look at me. They kept staring into the rainy, grey outside, their gazes as cold as the misty rain covering all we could see.

And I just didn’t know what to answer to that...

reminder to self:

Jeesh... Im growing old...

This morning I was a little late for work, so I missed my train... Which led to me deciding that since being late and being a little later are just about the same, I'd do a few things in town that have been waiting for my first free weekday (which seems to be just after hell turns into a new Ben and Jerry's flavour)
So, running through town, looking for a biological pesticide for my tomatoes (which are being eaten alive by white flies at the moment), buying a few things to fix up my bike (Im also taking motorbike lessons right now, so I very idealistically decided to do all the handyman-ing I can in order to brush up on my skills and reduce the number of future costly motorbike bills), some exotic food items (which means we're having Thai food tonight!! Mjam!) and lots more things, which can only be purchased in shops which close at 4 pm. (and so are impossible for anyone wich a job to get to during opening hours. By the way, why on earth do small shopowners (owners of small shops, not tiny people who own shops, btw) not pick up on the fact that these days they are missing out on a small fortune which people would like to spend at their establishment, but are unable to fork over for the good od the economy, since they are too busy earning said fortune during shopping hours).
Anyway, so far so good, a happy morning, right? The crowning moment was when I arrived at work about one-and-a-half hour late and my boss didnt even notice, Good stuff!!

But... while I was doing those few (roughly 10 in total) minor chores, I noticed something somewhat disturbing. I noticed that my poor little brain just was not able to hold on to more than one task at the time! Having completed one task, prepared to efficiently and energetically move on to the next, I invariably needed to stop for a moment to think about what that next task was... After a few thoughtful moments (plants done, now eehmm.. ehhm.. bike, what about bike? eeehmm... lets see... kaffir lime leaves.. nope, got those already... ehhmm...)

"Oh yes, of course!!" I thought "The braking cable for my bike needs replacing!!" At this moment I noticed two things.
1) the cable of my front brake (already kind of dingy) finally snapped completely, and
2) a lamppost was approaching me at worryingly high speeds, causing me to yell "Whhaahh!!!" loudly in a slightly-too-high-pitched voice, swerve crazily (narrowly missing a passing innocent car and seriously pissing off its driver) fall off my bike and end up sitting on the sidewalk, looking stupid & wondering why my bike was on top of me.

The point is, that at the moment I remembered what i was doing, I could hardly believe that a few moments earlier that exact same thought had been so elusively out of reach.
Am I just growing old?
Is my lifestyle (technopartys and drunk barnights) catching up with me?
Am I just a little tired?
Whats going on with me???

Oh well.. I guess I just need a good nights sleep. For now Im going to turn up "the sky was pink" by Nathan Fake (The James Holden remix of course), free my head of unproductive worries and get some work done.
If Im really getting too forgetful, this might be my last post (hey, its not an easy password to remember you know :P) otherwise I hope my little train of thought amused you & I will see you back here for more unbalanced susurrations...