Friday, October 28, 2011

Silly Little Mood Of Mine

My future husband.
Because I've had the chance to make so many friends of different nationalities over here, I'm going to share some of my thoughts on them since I am sick in bed and have nothing better to do. Yes, unfortunately, that means no art-bar-club thing for me tonight. But I did have a very progressive day of closet organization, laundry, and cleaning my bedroom. I had a nice phone conversation with mommy dearest and now I'm sitting here with my blankets, drinking a hot chocolate, and hoping to write something that will entertain you. 
First of all, I have a little fetish with German people. Nothing creepy, of course, but I love Germans, and the Germans love me too. I always find myself making friends with them over other nationalities for some strange reason, and I always feel the need to defend them when people call them 'cold' because this is a real scream to me (new expression). I took a German language course for three months while I was studying in France. I didn't choose to take German, but I was forbidden back into my Spanish class and I had to take a third language and so German it was. To me, the language is actually very interesting and beautiful. People at home from Canada were saying things like, "A beautiful German word is like saying a light bulb comes on, but dimly." That really hurt my feelings.
I find that I get along well with German's because they have a really particular sense of humour. Almost every German I've ever come across shares the same sense of humour as the next one. It's really hard to explain, but they seem so effortlessly witty without having to shout out to the world, "Look at me! I'm funny!" They just are. A lot of people assume I'm from Germany because of my blonde hair and blue eyes, but my heritage is actually French. Now, it's not like I search the internet scouting out German friends or even purposely hangout with them, but if there was a website called www.ilovegermanpeople.com, I would have it in the 'favourites' on my toolbar. In case you have me in your thoughts this coming holiday season, here are some potential gifts in case you don't know what to get me lined up on the left side of this post:
Don't seriously get me the "Dirty German" book though, because I actually already have it. So if you decide to get me the thong, I'm a size 'small'. I traveled to Frankfurt for a day on my way over to Rome, but I'm going to Munich for Christmas Eve and I cannot wait to be fascinated by them. I'm actually going with my Austrian friend Magda, but I don't know the distinct difference between Austrians and Germans. Personally, I think Magda's sense of humour is like the German people I know, but I'm not sure if Germans and Austrians really think of themselves as alike. What I really like about Germany people is that they tend to be very calm, which is usually the opposite of myself. They also are very organized, which I love and is a nice break from the Italian way of saying, "I'll meet you at the restaurant at 7," which really means, "I'll get there eventually, but it won't be anywhere close to 7." If a German tells you they're going to meet you at 7, they'll be there at 7 for real. Now that's German precision, baby! The other refreshing thing is that I have never met a dumb German. They're all very smart and cool and collected vhich ist vhy I love zem so much. Did you know that a lot of the Englisch language actually comes from Germanic speech? For example, "kindergarten" comes from the German word "kinder" meaning "child". So basically, it sounds like child garden, which I cannot decide is either adorable or weird...
Once upon a time when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was in high school, I dated a guy from Germany. He was actually a really nice guy and only moved to Canada a few years before we met and so he still had a bit of an accent. Like I said, this guy was nice, but now that I look back on that relationship the only reason I stuck around for so long was because he was German. I especially loved his mom because she would talk to me in German just because she knew I was fascinated by it. I hope he isn't reading this.
Your bride has arrived!
On the contrary, I don't typically get along with Russians. My friend who once lived in Italy told me this: "Russian women drive me crazy. They wear fur and rhinestones and come to Italy to steal all the old rich men." She also told me about a time where she met a couple of Russian girls who she started talking to on the streets of Rome one day, and she told the girls she was from Canada. They gave her a confused look and said, "Canada? Cana-da? Is that
like in the. You know... Like in the  America's?" Enough said! I don't actually know their intentions on Italian men, although the whole mail order bride deal doesn't exactly make it unbelievable, but at the same time, I don't exactly blame them for wanting to flee the country. Russians confuse me. In all honesty, I really should not be writing about Russians since I haven't had a personal conversation with one, which makes it unfair for me to make these assumptions. But the fur and rhinestone thing is definitely true, and the mail ordered bride situation is as well. I imagine that everyone does gymnastics, ice skating, has blue eyes, and eats cold potatoes and vodka for dinner. Moving on now.
I have a bunch of friends from England who are always saying silly things like "cheeky" and "bugger", although "fuckery" is my favourite. "What kind of fuckery is this?" is a typical thing you will hear when I am with these lovely ladies. I've caught onto this phrase and always use an English accent when I say it. English also have a really good sense of humour, I find all the English girls to be really funny, but of course everything is more hilarious when someone has an accent., so that could be it. Even though in Italy I'm a foreigner, I love foreign people in general. Especially Germans, but I think I've mentioned that before... I admit that this is probably the weirdest blog piece I've ever posted, but I'm going to blame it on one to many Advil's. 

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