I am in Berlin. Here, beer is cheaper than soda. CHEAPER THAN SODA. as in, BEER € < SODA € like I don’t even understand how that is possible. But look, I don’t even like beer but I like it better than soda. Soda is so over. Why even bother, soda? Why exist when there is beer? Obviously my SODA
CLUB is not included in the soda category, shut up.

I am alive and happy and will return Monday, though what if I miss my flight?I mean what if I have to stay longer? That’d be a terrible shame. Terrible terrible shame. I can’t even think about that it’s so horrible.

Pics to come when or if I return. The Internet pipes are small here. I need fat pipes for my fat pics.

Friends!

I leave soon!

To go to the airport!

To get on a plane!

To fight with my neighbor over the armrest!

To sit in the bitch seat!

To arrive at another airport!

This one will be in Paris!

Woo hoo! I am stoked! I’m going to majorly carboload there it will be ridiculous. WATCH ME CARBOLOAD PEOPLE. I’M GOING TO EAT A BAGUETTE SANDWICH. THAT’S WHEN I TAKE A BAGUETTE AND STICK IT INSIDE ANOTHER BAGUETTE.

OH AND THERE WILL BE CHEESE TOo IN THIS BAGUETTE SANDWICH.

ALSO THERE WILL BE A STOMACHACHE INVOLVED.

Nicceee.

Also, I will buy a wallet. And a cape. I really really want a cape. And no, not a magician cape or a superhero cape. But you know, like a cape. Shut up.

Yay! I will try to post a blog and pictures.

I will also try to refrain from making jokes about the French people but it’s hard for me. I mean France is my go-to country for jokes. And Germany for that matter. I am totally screwed. This might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.

Also, I’d like to thank American Airlines and my gazillion miles for making this trip possible (and free!).

My posse and I roll into a supermarket because that is how my posse rolls, and we are looking for ice cream because we are a very hard posse, and we roll into the “ice cream & frozen novelties” section. And next to the Klondike Eskimo Pies and next to the Popsicle Brand Fudgsicles, we see this.

READ CAREFULLY.

FROSTY PAWS.

IT IS ICE CREAM FOR DOGS.

Ice cream. For. Your. Dog. For your goddamn dog, you guys!

A few things:

1. This “treat” is right next to shit people eat. Like nestled between frozen novelties specifically created for HUMANS. Between the Klondike Bars and the Fudgsicles. As if to say “IF YOU LOVVEE KLONDIKE BARS, THEN YOU’LL LOOVVEE FROSTY PAWS!” I can foresee a situation where someone quickly picks this up because of the cute packaging and then goes home and then, upon discovery, becomes sad. And maybe, just maybe, a little curious. Like, hmm, what if I tried this? And after a few sniffs and rudimentary licks and a double-dare from your stoner of a roommate and then a choke and a gag, the depression truly sets in. Not to mention the fact that when you want ice cream, you really want fucking ice cream and now you are left without ice cream. Or a dog. That is the true sad story there.

2. The packaging looks very close to a kids’ cereal, which makes the whole thing even more disturbing.

3. JUST BECAUSE PEOPLE EAT ICE CREAM, DOES NOT MEAN DOGS SHOULD.

4. DOGS DO NOT NEED ICE CREAM. They lick their own buttholes. They eat garbage. They don’t need ice cream, you guys.

This kind of goes along with what I was saying before about dogs not needing sweaters because they are born with them. They don’t need ice cream. They don’t have to eat the same food as you. In fact, they shouldn’t. I imagine, and correct me if I’m wrong here, that when packs of dogs were running buck-wild, they did not eat ice cream. A raging mutt did not hunt and catch a squirrel and think, god I can really use a Frosty Paws right now. They also did not think, man life would be so much cooler if I were in someone’s handbag.

Ugh. I can’t stand that dogs are turning into people. We have enough people on this planet. Let dogs be dogs. THUMBS DOWN!!!!

A new store just opened on my street, where a men’s shop used to be. This men’s shop kind of sucked. So I was hoping something useful would pop up in it’s place. Like a bookstore or a music store or a natural foods store with a bulk section (I LOVE bulk sections shut up) or a candy shop or a musical instrument shop or a nice, chill bar or a place with really excellent coffee or a shop that serves stuff on toasts or a place that only sells kale because kale is tasty or a place that teaches you how to tie bowties or maybe a public living room where you can go and hang out and watch TV and cook dinner or a place with ping pong and pinball. What i mean to say is that the potential for awesome was very, very high.

It’s a store called Wool and the Gang hahaha The tagline is “Crazy Sexy Wool”. This is where you can insert your own pun (Angela already said Celebrate Wool Times, Come on!) It is a high-end yarn place. Like fancy ass yarn. Fancy fancy yarn made by some ladies in some part of some place with some kind of animal raised on some kind of organic business so that it grows some kind of magical hair or fur that gets shaved and then spun by children with large dewy eyes and nimble fingers and during lunch they run around in mountain meadows. Mind you there is ANOTHER fancy yarn place a block away. This other yarn place happens to be expensive too. Can someone tell me WHY does my neighborhood need ANOTHER fancypants yarn place? Why not a Target or a Commes Des Garcon pop-up store or a place that lets you play with kittens and ducklings by the hour? A YARN store? Seriously, people. It’s bad enough there’s two doggie lifestyle places in my neighborhood.

Oh I meant to mention that this place also has dog sweaters. Dogs don’t need sweaters. They are born with sweaters already. That is what makes dogs rad. They come clothed, it is awesome. So now, in a block, there are three places where one can buy doggie sweaters. This is NOT including the American Apparel down my street which also has doggie clothes, but those aren’t sweaters, more like gold lamé unitards. For dogs. Obviously. Duh.

Out of curiosity I googled “what to do if your toaster oven catches on fire” and then the first hit was a review of my fucking toaster oven on Amazon. Here are some quotes:

“The turd of toasters”

“Great way to burn down your house”

“Substandard product”

“Worst product ever, buy fire insurance”

“Expected better from Black and Decker”

These were all one star reviews. The average review was two stars, and it’s only because one asshole gave it four stars and killed the curve. Either way two star rating is pretty bad because it’s not like Amazon stars are like Michelin stars, you know what I mean? Fucking hot mitts and pot holders get 5 stars on that thing. You have to SUCK IT HARD to get low ratings. Seriously. I am a big fan of Amazon ratings by the way. I’d love to edit a book of awesome product reviews, but I’m pretty sure that book exists and I’m pretty sure no one read it.

The good news is that I bought this toaster for $20 at Target and it’s probably because they wanted to unload this garbage.

The other good news is that my apartment smells like a toaster oven.

The other good news is that I probably have to get a new toaster because I think this shit shorted out. This will be my second toaster oven in one year. My god. I mean I really love toast soo this is kind of heartbreaking. I feel like I lost a friend. A shitty, asshole friend who stole my money and broke all my dishes.

I just made myself toast. I put bread in the toaster because that is how you make toast. Then the bread caught on fire inside the toaster oven. I am not sure how this happened. Like how does bread just spontaneously combust? I don’t understand, but here is what I understand: fire = bad in 90% of all places.

So, I freaked out and then opened the oven door to blow the flame out and then the toast caught on even MORE fire because remember that thing where you need fuel and oxygen to feed a fire? Well I just gave it a shitload of oxygen so then it was like a raging campfire inside my toaster oven. So I freaked out and then closed the oven door in order to cut off oxygen, but I guess the oven door does not create an airtight seal. So it was just on fire for like EVER. So I contemplated throwing the entire thing in the bathtub, but eventually opened the oven door again and blew it out. For a splitsecond I had this vision of my apartment catching on fire, and you know what I thought? Oh man I am so glad I have renter’s insurance and also, I really want toast. Seriously, that is what I thought.

So the question is, who wants toast? Plenty for everyone, don’t be shy. You can get it with butter, peanut butter, or fruit jam (“Fruits of the Forest” flavor, whatever that is. It’s one of those flavors you are like WTF, I better get this shit because it sounds hilarious and possibly delicious. But it’s actually just a mix of berries, but I guess they didn’t want to call it “Mixed Berries” because that obviously doesn’t sound sexy at all. I mean would you rather get Fruits of the Forest or Mixed Berries? I rest my case.)

There’s more where that came from.

Also, do you think I should try toasting again? I cannot believe I messed up toast. That’s hard to do. Like advanced idiocy.

I’m sorry, dear friends. I was sick. I know it’s no excuse, and I’m sorry I haven’t been here. But now I am back. I can now climb three flights of stairs without coughing up an alveolar sac, which, in case you’re wondering, looks NOTHING like a nutsac. Seriously. I myself was surprised. I mean a sac is a sac is a sac, right? Like a sac can only look like one thing, and that is a nutsac. But, NO. I was WRONG. Alveolar sacs and nutsacs actually do not look alike. I feel like I’ve been living a lie all these years. Feel free to share that fact. That one is yours to keep.

This has been a week of me breaking shit. The most recent casualty is my computer mouse at work. I think I spilled coffee and water on it too many times, so it got fed up and said, eff you loser and then the little red light wet dim, just like that scene in the original Terminator where the robot gets crushed in the George Foreman grill and it’s little red eye goes dim and it is all, so sad…so dark…and cold…so…alone. That was my computer mouse. Later it came back as sweet fucking liquid metal, and then it came back again, this time as a girl that is not Charlize Thereon but kind of looks like her if you squint, but I didn’t see that one, so I can’t say for sure. Then I guess it came back again to the past to go back to the future. God these things are so confusing sometimes. I need to waterproof my life, that is the lesson learned, friends.

I also busted my wallet. Normally I bust wallets because it’s filled with COLD HARD CASH and it’s like yo dawg, can you break a C-note and they are like uh no don’t call me dawg and I don’t have change, and I’m like whatever, loser!

So here is what I’ve figured out: In order to buy a wallet you need to spend money. That means it comes out of a wallet. But you don’t have one. But let’s say you somehow buy a wallet, but then you don’t have money to put in it. Like, this is some kind of weird black hole/time-space thing, maybe.