When you think a situation cannot get any worse...it gets

This Monday was very cold. In the morning, I rode my bike to work. This ride lasts 20 minutes, and that day, it was so cold that after 15 minutes I thought of giving up. I couldn't feel my fingers, streams of chilled air (-15C) went through my pants and my face was completely red and aching...but I continued and safely reached my destination.

A colleague from work and I talked recently about this and she said something very nice. I will quote her "When one thinks it is impossible to continue, one can still go a little bit further". I think it is a beautiful sentence, however I instantly modified it to fit into the way life often is: Shitty! This is the new quote "When you think a situation cannot get any worse...it gets" 

I can provide you with some examples:

Once I was in the kitchen, I dropped a knife which felt on my barefoot, while getting the knife away from my foot (it got stuck), I hit my elbow on the funny bone with the table. It was horrible! The worst thing was that when I got stood up again (I bent to pick up the knife) I hit my head with the handle of a sauce pan. I am not kidding, this really happened.

Another time, I was in London with my brother, and on the first day, I was brushing my teeth and when I finished, I spit and in that exact moment, my brother wanted to put his toothbrush under the water tap...of course I completely spit on his toothbrush. He was so pissed of and I was laughing so strong, that I accidentally hit his arm so strong, that he dropped the toothbrush and it landed in the water closet.

This is the latest: Right now, I am at a friend's, I am babysitting (baby is safe and asleep, so I can write these lines and sip some wine), well, today nothing had gone wrong until the moment I entered this apartment: I came in, I took my winter-boots off (in Austria, people usually take their shoes off when entering an apartment/house). And then...well, it is not that I like my friend, she is indeed gorgeous, but who wants to give a bad impression? Not me! well, as soon as I took my boots off, i noted a strong cheesy smell. I am not exaggerating, my feet really smell like cheese in this moment! My first reaction was to run into the toilet and perform a quick test to be sure it was my feet. The results of the test were positive, so to calm down, I took a pee (I was already there seating on the WC, so why not?). I was about to finish when the child I am baby-sitting now opened the door and said "o car" (I think she meant Oscar). So, there I am, seating on the toilet, peeing, sad and nervous because of my feet and there is a 2 year old child staring at me laughing.

...I thought this couldn't get any worst, so I let some fresh air into my socks, i stood up, flushed, buckled my belt, washed my hands and with no self-esteem at all, I went to the kitchen, and my friend  asked me: Do you smell that?

I cannot describe how I love to look like a guy from a 1970's erotic film

I cannot remember writing about style, even though my blog was once described as a Cosmopolitan for men, but the tiem for writing about it has come:

Every guy has style, but not all styles fit them.

I once found a Mexican website specialised in tacky people, there I saw an amazing picture of a guy in an aeroplane laughing to the camera wearing sunglasses...big mistake, the poor guy looked pretty stupid.

I think we all have seen dozens or hundreds of Italian men wearing sunglasses even when it is dark outside (or bight inside)...even thought those Italians look stupid, they don't look as stupid as that Mexican in the aeroplane...and I know why: Because Italians don't take pictures of themselves laughing.

I cannot describe how I love to look like a guy from a 1970's erotic film, or simply like Burt Reynolds.

Some days ago in Chihuahua, my brother gave me an old sport suit in overweighted-Italian-gangster-from-New-York-style. Yeah like the Italians from the movies of Scorcesse, De Palma and even Jarmusch (you see this kind of sport suit in Ghost Dog and Coffee and Cigarettes).

My brother was fascinated by the idea that I was going to travel back home wearing it in two of the biggest airports in the world Houston and Frankfurt. And I had to do this...with style.

So, the problem was “How can I not look stupid wearing that stupid sport suit among thousands of tourists, business men and celebrities?”, and the answer was easy: don't laugh.

Here some pics, enjoy yourself:

in the VIP area

many Oscars with moustache

as any jet set, I had a jet lag

after resting at the VIP area...right at the gate

I traveled of yourse, on a Thursday

back home

the hippiest thing I have ever written

Around ten years ago, my sister, my brother and I started the tradition of cooking the same dishes for christmas. Some of the things we prepared were based on typical northern Mexican kitchen and others were only things we love to eat, but never had the time to cook, so we prepared them on this special day, the day were I spend 8 hours cooking.

In North Mexico, we cook turkey on the 24th in a traditional American way: Put it in the oven for 4-6 hours with white wine, salt (we sometimes add carrots and onions) and later use the juice to make gravy. We serve the turkey slices with mashed potatoes, fresh bread ans salad.

On special occasions, my mom prepares arróz poblano (Puebla-style rice), which is the easiest way to prepare amazing rice: Cook rice with nothing but salt, when ready, put a layer of rice on a pyrex, add sweet corn, crème fraiche, grilled bell pepper slices and shredded Chihuahua cheese, continue with another layer until you reach the top of the pyrex. Finish with cheese, then make a gratin out of it.

The menu we designed for christmas is the following:

Vegetarian spring rolls (self made)
Arróz poblano
Green salad with a marmalade vinaigrette
White wine goose stuffed with oranges, ginger and garlic
Chocolate chip cookies (...of course, self made!)

I like the way people develops, the way traditions are modified. I like how traditions change and keep on going as a “new traditions”. I really love that my family and me celebrate these days in different places, that we cook different dishes...and that each time we are all happy, also if good times are gone – we enjoy the moments together and make the best of the things we have.

I wish you all a happy time with your friends and family and hope that you celebrate your family traditions and that you create new ones, try it, it's fun!

And now, the hippiest thing I have ever written: I love you all!

My reality tonight: I have PMS

Yesterday, a friend of mine wrote on her Facebook-wall that she had the feeling she had PMS. I added a comment „me too“ - no one on her wall thought my comment was funny and no one bothered to ask me why I had PMS...if I am a man.

Certainly, I have to admit that I was kidding when I wrote the PMS comment, but I knew it would come soon because in autumn I get depressed.

Today I don't feel good, I have the feeling I have PMS.

Don't think I am trying to be funny, I am not assuming, I am talking based on reliable information!

Tonight for dinner, I cooked the recipe I posted in my blog on September (blog: my emo-side is on vacations), I had a glass of white wine and I called good friends today.

Well, these are only dry facts, without feeling and are not giving you an idea of how I feel tonight. This is what really happened:

FACT: The dish I cooked for dinner is supposed to be shared with friends
MY REALITY TONIGHT: half a portion of my food is now resting on a Tupperware in the fridge

FACT: The glass of wine I had is an excellent (and expensive) Austrian Riesling,vintage 2009
MY REALITY TONIGHT: The wine it tasted like shit

FACT: I called friends and some friends called me
MY REALITY TONIGHT: The friends I called did not want to talk to me and I was not interested in talking to the friends who called me

FACT and REALITY: I knew tonight I needed to stay home, write a blog and hear sad songs (and drink no wine). Right now “Anyone else but you” by Moldy Peaches is playing, before it I heard “Always on my mind” by The King.

...if I were a woman I would be about to bleed to death

P.S. I would like to apologize if a woman thought my last sentence was sexist
P.S.2. if you are a man, have you also had the feeling you have PMS?

Man, I really hope the food in the plane is good…

Two working colleagues, who are also periodical readers of my blog, told me on Monday that my entries are each day less and less…interesting, less “the way they used to be”. I think they meant self-ironic, sad and funny.

Apparently, if I spend the rest of my days as a sad single writing blog entries drinking wine makes my stires funnier.

Well, that may be difficult at the moment, because of my current relationship status...however, things can also be shitty, even if you are in love:

I am sitting in Frankfurt’s airport on gate B 22 waiting for the boarding time. I am traveling to Montevideo via Buenos Aires. If you are used to use nice airports like Munich’s you may know how easy it is to get all kinds of food at all kinds of prices. At Munich you can get an excellent Falafel , Sushi or a Beer and Sausages for less than 5 euros. In Mexico you can have American food, tacos or sushi for 3-6 USD, and in Dallas there is a good place for Hamburgers and two nice Mexican places. Even at Europe’s smallest international airport (Innsbruck) I got a sandwich, a blueberry muffin and a bottle of water for 5 Euros.

Frankfurt sucks! I am hungry and there is nothing affordable here. Yes, there is a bar where you can have a glass of red wine for 7,50 EUR or a stand where you can have a bottle of beer for 4,50 EUR. Even the duty-free shops are bloody expensive! Why buy a bottle of Absolut vodka for 16 Euros, when you can pay 10 at the supermarket and pay taxes?!

I hold a credit card which allows me to wait in a V.I.P. lounge where I probably could get a snack and a drink for free, but my gate is way too far and I had to take a decision: food and booze or catch my plane to Buenos Aires, I went for the second.

Man, I really hope the food in the plane is good…

I think terrorists and stoke-brokers should have real friends, eat more chocolate and think less of sex

Tonight I cooked a nice dinner, Basmati rice I got from an Indian colleague, topped with green curry paste I got from Verena's last trip to Thailand, broccoli and cauliflower and sweet sesame paste from my French ex-flatmate Marina.

I ate this delicious dinner while reading the newspaper and hearing a song compilation I made for Andrea. The newspaper, as usual in these times, was disappointing.

Financial crisis in the west and terrorist attacks in the east; both are terrible ways of treating innocent human beings. The victims of the crisis are loosing their savings and their health and social services. The victims of terrorism loose also a lot: their arms, their legs, their dads, their husbands and wives, their brothers and daughters...

The crisis and terrorism are both caused by men taking advantage of others. Business men and stoke-brokers are happy to steal money. Terrorists are happy to send young boys to trigger bombs attached to their bodies...the reason? I know they think that virgin teenagers will wait for them in heaven and after dying in the attack, they think they will fuck them...and that's it.

Bankers in New York and London and Frankfurt also do what they do (steal money) to get laid. They buy cocaine and have sex with prostitutes...not in heaven, but in penthouses.

Since the news in the paper were too sad, I decided to finish my piñata. Yes! I am working once more in a piñata. So, this is what I did:

I sat on the floor with my glass of red wine, chocolate cookies (digestives, for the British among you), scissors, glue, coloured paper (crepe paper, for the handicraft-junkies among you) and nice music on the background. I started to work, ate and drank and then I got it!!!

In the song playing I heard the line “love is the answer”, then I thought of the Beatles and “all you need is love” and all that hippie crap...really, I have a possible answer to make this world a better place!

I don't think that a person sitting in his kitchen, hearing to the music he likes, having glass of his favourite drink, eating food prepared with ingredients from the people he loves, having chocolate cookies and then, he builds a piñata for a small lovely girl would ever, ever think of robbing or killing innocents.

I think terrorists and stoke-brokers should have real friends, eat more chocolate cookies...and think less of shagging prostitutes in expensive hotels (or raping virgins in heaven). They should get a girlfriend, get in love, with her, maybe have children and make piñatas for them.


P.S. maybe it also helps to hear some songs by Nina Simone, Elvis Presley, Sigur Ros, Radiohead...and the supremes!

music and lyrics

This time I won’t be telling a story, but I will show a video I made on Tuesday. A working colleague (she would kill me if I write her name in this blog) gave me the link to website which produces word clouds automatically. I used text of old blog entries and a song I composed for Andrea this summer to produce the video.

Enjoy the video and I hope you can recognise one or more words from my entries!

Click here to stream the video