Bridesmaid Hair Inspiration Photos

Kristen, I like the way your hair curls when you use your Conair stick thing.

I like everything about this. Hannah, Steph, and Kristen? 

Note the poof/curl.

Shorter hair version. Brie?

I just liked this. 

Amy, I was thinking this for you. I can send you the original so you can see it.

If you're feeling up to it... 

If you want to do an up-do. '20s- inspired waves. 

I think to do this right, you have to sleep in clips. 

Love it. You can do exactly this, or do a little twist at the top and secure with a bobby pin. Homogenous waves like this, or loose curls at the bottom. 

Steph?

Good News/Bad News

The good news is that I finally found jeans that fit. The bad news is that I dropped two sizes in the last 2 years since I last bought jeans.

Not cool. I feel like the incredible shrinking woman. Also, now it's even harder to find pants, given that I am the size of a seventh grader again.

I'm writing it here because I didn't want to hear the sarcastic comments it would bring in as a facebook status update, and I wanted to complain somewhere.

Lass mich bitte in Ruhe

Okay, so, it is already pretty clear that a guy would be more effective at my job. Sometimes, though, being me, as I am not a guy, leads to interesting experiences. Imagine: You are a guy at a bar. You see a girl sitting with a group of 3-5 guys, and she is laughing and heavily engaged in conversation with these guys the whole time. You don't know her; therefore, she could very well be dating any one of them. What do you do?

I would imagine that if I saw such a scene, that I would consider her "taken" and move on. Well, that's not what happened to me last night. This one guy came out of nowhere and started talking to me, even though I was in the middle of a group of guys. After we ended our conversation, he kept coming around and trying to talk to me, sort of following me at one point, even though I was with my guys already. I don't get it. (Also, it should be noted that German guys don't seem to have the same protective instinct that Americans have, or at least that Southerners have. Haha)

Well, on a positive note, he said that my accent was very light.

More Mouse Drama

Bitsy has a really bad cough. I know it sounds silly, but it's true. It sounds like she is having a panic attack or breathing out of lungs made of plastic. I don't have time to take her to the vet until Thursday. I hope I don't wake up with a dead mouse in the next few days. Or ever.

How do I explain this to the vet in German?

Identity Crisis.

Today I voluntarily drank coffee. I mean, I was alone at my house, made coffee, and then drank it.

Who am I?

P.S.- It tastes really good when it's mostly vanilla soy milk.

Bear Claw

Note to self: next time your brother is getting married, don't play paintball with a bunch of guys a few weeks before you're going to be in the wedding. He and his wife- heck, or you- probably don't want you to look forever in the wedding photos like you got attacked by a baby bear .

On Game Night

I need to stop forgetting that I should not wash my hair or wear clean jeans on game night day. Now I have perfectly clean hair that, if I go to bed like this, will continue to give me a headache from cigarette smell. Gross. I have clean sheets, too. Sick. I mean, nice but also sick.

In other game night-related news, I ended up with playing till the end with three guys again. I didn't even notice till we were walking down the street when we left. I just feel so at home as "one of the guys" talking about football, Weird Al, and paintball weaponry. Haha. Oh, my life.

Just Another Time I Felt Like a Spy

When Brie came, we went on a tour of a castle. I asked one of the docents a question, and we ended up having a little conversation. Here's a snippet.

"Where do you guys live?"

"Oh, I live in Dresden, but I'm from the US."

"I'm surprised; you don't have a really thick American accent."

"Really?!"

"Oh yeah, you can usually hear an American accent right away. It's really distinct. Especially people from Texas, they have a crazy, terrible accent."

I can't remember how I replied to that besides laughing in my head.

Billy Goat Viral Computer Invader?

When I signed up for an online forum recently, I had to agree to the terms and rules. They made me promise:

Not to Troll. Wikipedia definition of trolling: "In Internet terminology, a troll is often someone who comes into an established community such as an online discussion forum, and posts inflammatory, rude, repetitive or offensive messages designed intentionally to annoy or antagonize the existing members or disrupt the flow of discussion, including the personal attack of calling others trolls. Often, trolls assume multiple aliases, or sock puppets."

I had no idea that the danger of internet sock puppets was so real.

Accent That

When I visited my cousin in Munich, she warned me that I would loose my Texas accent, which, to be perfectly honest, I am a little found of. People think she is from Canada, even though she is from Austin. I thought the day had finally come, and I was willing to accept it. Anything for the cause, right? What's an accent anyway? I can always find a new one.

Well, at my party, we were looking at my mice, and I explained how as a kid, I wanted to be a zoologist and live in the jungle. Before that, I wanted to be a whale trainer (after a visit to good ol' Sea World), and Christof asked, "A what trainer? A 'well?' What's a 'well?'"

Plus one point for resilient accents.

Unheimlich

There's just something wrong with hearing country songs on German radio. It's especially weird when they go something like this: German, German, German, "Country Song," German. Also, they have no fiddle. Come on folks, if you're going to do it . . .

Lord of the Dance

I am a German dance sensation. Now, don't get me wrong; it's not because I am so good. Germans really stink at dancing. I don't know what it is. Genetic? Lack of diverse influence? Maybe the German mentality doesn't lend itself to free expression of movement? Whatever it is, it makes me feel like some sort of cross-cultural Ginger Rogers.

Tauschen

I am about to go to Ikea alone to exchange a table. See, when I got the table, I didn't know it was a triangle and not a square. I thought I was being tricky and saving money. Nope. You can't really keep a mouse cage on a tiny triangle table. I hope the one I need isn't sold out. It was on sale.

Where do you go in Ikea to exchange? What is their exchange policy? Is exchange "umtauschen" or "austauchen"? We will see. Maybe I'll just slur? I'm sure this is going to result in a story.

Copenhagen Jane

I am now the "proud" new owner of a bag of loose-leaf tobacco. I don't even know if "lose-leaf" is a term that can be applied to tobacco. I am more of a tea drinker than a chain-smoker. Where should I keep it? Oh, I know! How about right next to the gigantic bottle of wine I got as a gift? All I need now is a box of condoms, and I'll have a trifecta.

How did I come to own this bag of stinky? Well, I'm glad you asked. A wasp stung me between my toes. Yes, between my toes. As I calmly pulled her out of my flesh and watched her fly away I thought, "Well, at least I know a solution to this problem: a cigarette." First, finish your business at the bank. Now, to figure to bum a cigarette. At this point, I am wondering if this is God's way of getting me to meet my neighbors. It's amazing how this sort of situation makes you drop your inhibitions.

I rang at Nachbar's house. I'm sure they smoke, and I have actually spoken to them before in my life. Too bad they aren't home at the moment. I tried the next floor. They were confused and tried to answer the main house door. I was too flustered and busy laughing at them to ring again. I felt a little like Mary at the reception desk. On the next floor, and angry-looking, rotund girl answered the door, not exactly looking like a "person of peace." I asked in My Toe Hurts so I Sound like a Two Year Old German if I could have a cigarette, and Lying Neighbor said she is fresh out. LN also wreaked of cigarettes. Still flustered, I forgot to offer her a euro for one. ("Oh, we just got a delivery!") I didn't want to take the time to explain, "I don't smoke. It's for my foot. A bee bit me." That's as close I could have gotten to explaining the situation, so I have it up and run-hobbled to the grocery store, the frenzied look of an addict gleaming in my eyes. If you've seen how my skin reacts to, well, anything, you can imagine how swollen it is at this point. The clerk helped me find some tobacco.

"I need the cheapest box of cigarettes."

"Well, these cigarettes are... and the cigarillos are...."

I start to wonder if there would be a practical difference, given my situation. Then, I regain my focus.

"I really just need the tobacco."

"This one or this one?"

"I'll take that one!"

After the proverbial dust had settled, I searched home remedies for wasp bites, wondering if the tobacco trick works only for bee stings and has some sort of adverse, toe-swelling effect on wasp stings. I found out that ice can help alleviate the pain and swelling. Duh! Ice. Too bad I live in Europe and have no ice. Actually, when I lived in the States, I didn't keep ice either. Foreshadowing? Anyway, now I am sitting here thawing frozen beef cubes on my foot and wondering how to get the smell of tobacco off of my fingers.

Ode to Summer

Summer,

You were here yesterday

Now have you gone away

I thought you were here to stay

At least another week.

Did I do something?

Did I offend you?

You seem to have left in a hurry.

I hate wearing socks.

Da, dadada, Da, dadada

There's some sort of tribal African techno happening outside my window on the street below. Oh, Saturday nights. I'm pretty sure this song has more cowbell, which almost makes it acceptable. At 1:44 am, though, it's going to take a little bit more to convince me.

Artsy Fartsy

I think in order to succeed at my job, I am going too have find my inner weirdo. It's going to take some digging, I think, since I'm been suppressing her for so long.

Come to think of it, I kind of miss her.

Say what?

There are some words in German that are just to similar to use comfortably. For instance, I never say "brush" because it is so similar to "breast" that my American mouth can't find a practical difference. The words for "six" and "sex" are also too close for comfort; however, one simply cannot avoid saying "six" in everyday life. Today my waitress was shocked at what I requested back when I paid my bill for tea. Oh, cross-cultural living.

In other news, I think I am only now beginning to realize the endless possibilities that exist for me in a land where crazy-looking clothes are completely socially acceptable.

Altemeister Ego Boost

I, like many people I know, fancy myself a bit of a student of human behavior. I have found an interesting location for behavior study: the Old Master's Gallery in Old Town, Dresden. Today I bought a shiny new year-card and did some sketching.  I got a taste of what my friends in other countries feel like to be the Great White Wonder (or, the Supertall Black Wonder- I love BD). This was my first time to feel this way because I look like a German kid, so blending in is no big deal for me, as long as I keep my mouth shut. Make that especially if I keep my mouth shut. It was so funny to sit there and sketch and see how different people react. Some people nod at you. One lady gave me a thumbs up and then asked if she could sit and watch. Gerne. Some people try and sneak a peak while they walk past. The docents, breaking every German stereotype, come over and look and talk for a while. A flock of geriatric Japanese tourists clamored to give me compliments in two or three languages. (It's also interesting to see what language people use when approaching me.) I sort of felt like I was running a candid camera show.  

In related news, I've found a place where I can go for a pick-me-up if I am ever feeling down, especially about my drawing skills.